


Winter Dreams

by agentsimmons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Jane Austen Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Music, Alternate Universe - Retail, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Christmas, Christmas Angst, Christmas Drama, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Music, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Kid Fic, M/M, Medical Conditions, Not Canon Compliant, Parent Bruce Banner, Parent Tony Stark, Psychological Drama, Science Boyfriends, Science Bros, Science Husbands
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-01
Updated: 2017-12-29
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:19:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 30,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008018
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agentsimmons/pseuds/agentsimmons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of Christmas Bruce/Tony ficlets inspired by Christmas songs, updated regularly throughout the holiday season. Started in 2015. Added to in 2016 and 2017.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. You're All That I Need

**Author's Note:**

> What it says on the tin. A bunch of Christmas fluff, maybe some slight Christmas angst (but let's be real this is me we're talking about) inspired by various Christmas songs (not necessarily songfics, but we'll see). My love for Christmas and Christmas music is infinite - _I will fight anyone who doubts this_ \- so there are very few songs I don't know about. But if there's a song/rendition you'd love, love, love to have a Christmas ficlet inspired by feel free to drop me a line on my [tumblr](http://sciencedads.tumblr.com/ask) or in the comments and I'll try my very best :)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What do you get the guy who has everything for Christmas? Tony's teammates have an idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Kelly Clarkson's [Underneath The Tree](https://open.spotify.com/album/7qhhN01Zo39Xy263zAX4nL). This ficlet includes mean Fury which I don't write a lot (since I rather like MCU!Fury), but it had to be done for this particular plot idea.

"Dear, St. Nicholas J. Fury. There's only one thing I want for Christmas," Tony randomly interrupts the debriefing in a clipped tone as full of cynicism as it is humor. He leans back in his chair and props his feet up against the assembly table on board the Hellicarrier just because he wants to irritate the man. Natasha, Steve and Clint turn their heads to look at him.

"I'm not telling you where your man crush is, Stark," Fury clips back, sounding even more unamused than usual. He rolls his eye and attempts to return to the boring details about how they managed to save the day again from the half-baked villain of the month. Well, villains. Serpent Society? Really? Whatever. It would have at least been worth it if they'd had to call in Banner.

"I'm sorry," Tony interrupts again and sits up in a show of the indignation boiling just beneath his flippant veneer. "Did you just say man crush?" He looks around the room as if looking for affirmation that nobody is going to give. "Man _crush. Man crush_!?" He barks out a laugh. "Where's your Christmas spirit, Fury? Where's your sense of romance?"

"Yes, man crush," Fury fires back with a heated glare. "You can stop pretending like you're in love with the man now, Stark. We both know you. Hell, the whole world knows you. If you had managed to get whatever it is you wanted from him, you would have thrown him away like everyone else."

"I technically didn't throw Pepper away," Tony points out.

"As if you could," Natasha chimes in with a snort. She's not wrong.

"That's because Ms. Potts is smart enough to get while the getting is good. Just like Dr. Banner."

The veneer is suddenly stripped away like it had been subjected to an unexpected hurricane. "That's a damn lie and you know it." The entire bridge goes still. The only sound is the atmospheric sound of machinery and technology. It would almost sound like a symphony if Tony wasn't finally at his boiling point.

"If you're suggesting something let's hear it so we can move on," Fury challenges.

Tony rises to that challenge because it's been four months since Bruce disappeared. It's been four months of maintaining his promise not to track him down all the while suspecting foul play. He doesn't have proof, but it's almost Christmas and he'd been looking forward to spending it with his 'man crush' so he's done playing defense.

"I'm suggesting you scared him off somehow," he says and he doesn't miss the way his present and accounted for team mates look at him as if they're just as surprised by the accusation.

"Why would I do that?" Fury asks with no small amount of incredulity. It would be convincing only Tony stopped trusting anything the man says for face value after the Natalie Rushman stunt. The weapons of mass destruction only sealed that fate.

"I don't know. You tell me, Nick." Tony raises his hands and lets them fall again just as quickly. "But if I had to venture a guess or a couple of guesses it's that one, Bruce Banner has always been a liability in your book - one who just happened to come in handy a few times our of pure, dumb luck. And two, you think exactly what you just told me - that I was going to screw everything up, make Banner angry and _poof!_ Bye bye Manhattan. Sound about right?"

"Sure, sounds right," Fury replies breezily. "I thought those things. If he were still around I would still think those things. But thinking that and playing operation break up, or whatever it is you're implying, are so far apart it's ridiculous even for you, Stark."

Tony bristles. "Uh huh. And it's just a coincidence that a day after you and Brucey-babe have a little heart to heart he decides to leave with a pathetic excuse of needing some time to think? Even though two days before that he was considering finally coming to a Stark gala with me? He knew there was no pressure. He didn't seem like he needed time to think. Unless somebody gave him something to think about."

Tony stands up and looks at Fury with as much intensity as he can humanly muster. "What did you say to him, hmm? Why is it that he's not here where he damn well belongs, Fury? You know what? Why do I even expect you to answer?"

He moves toward the exit, no longer caring about any obligations he supposedly has as an Avenger. "You really believe all that, Stark?" Fury's question trails after him and Tony stops in his tracks, listening against his better judgment. "You really need to believe Banner couldn't figure it out for himself and make that call? Wake up one morning and move on without prompting?"

Tony spins back around and he must look as vehement as he feels because Fury actually startles minutely. "Do you believe that I was in love with him? That I'm still in love with him?" Fury doesn't look like he's going to dignify that with an answer any time soon and it's the last bit of reassurance Tony needs. "Right. That's how I know you're wrong about Bruce too."

He only barely registers how Fury's poker face falls for half a second before turning again to leave. He hears a round of "Sir?" from his teammates, but at the moment he can't be bothered to care which of them they're apt to believe in the end.

 

* * *

 

Christmas Eve at the Tower is cold just like the world outside. He would have thrown a grand party, and he’s well aware that there’s a Stark Industries staff party going on somewhere downstairs, but he doesn’t feel much like celebrating. It’s easier to sulk at the bar in the communal lounge where there would have been a celebration, a small one for obvious reasons with probably just the team, had the holiday season panned out differently. He’s not drowning himself in alcohol, which reminds him again how wrong Fury is, but there’s still something nicely self-pitying about sitting alone in a dim room with only the neon lights of the ginormous tree he had picked out just in case.

Tony snorts derisively at himself and takes another swig of his drink. Maybe this is what he gets for letting himself go soft. Maybe this is why his father had been cold and distant. It’s empty and it sucks, he knows that from past experience, but this feels worse. Getting close to something only to have it plucked away again is a different kind of empty.

He takes his last drink and resolves not to pour another. Instead he turns and looks at the tree. There are some presents underneath it because all of the Avengers are a little messed up and lonely in different ways and this is good for them. This, well, it isn’t normalcy exactly, but it's still better than what most of them have ever had and it seems like a good idea to make the most of it should it all fall apart in the future.Tony just hadn’t realized what he had hoped for would fall apart first.

He continues to stare long and hard at the gifts and realizes that it’s all pointless. What he wants isn’t there. Who knows where Bruce is.

Shaking his head he decides to call it a night. His teammates are nowhere to be found, probably downstairs at the party enjoying themselves - more than they would at his pity party, Tony muses. And, honestly, that’s okay. He probably couldn’t even put on his media smile at the moment and bullshit his way through it. Then again, maybe he _should_ go downstairs and try. Bruce hasn’t even had the decency to send a Christmas greeting and that makes him shiver even more. No amount of alcohol can warm the chill it sends through him.

But after a few more moments of deliberation, he just can’t find it in himself to be angry enough to do that. He can’t be angry at Bruce because he’s still sure that somewhere the physicist is as miserable as he is. He’s become so certain of it now after his confrontation with Fury that he doesn’t think he can resist breaking his promise and flying to the ends of the Earth to find Bruce himself. And if he has any Christmas wishes left to make it’s that his desperation won’t be the thing that really pushes Bruce away for good.

 

* * *

 

“Good morning, sir. It is 9:22 a.m. and the weather is--”

“Cold,” Tony grumbles before JARVIS can finish. He opens his eyes, looks around and contemplates pulling his duvet tighter and sleeping for another three hours.

“Yes sir, cold weather is typical in New York on Christmas morning.”

Tony blinks as his mind catches up. “Are the others already awake?” He recalls Steve making a big deal about wanting to make Christmas breakfast for the team and as much as he’s really not interested, he has enough self-awareness to know that would be too Ebenezer even for him.

“Yes, sir. You are expected downstairs as promptly as you can manage this morning.”

Tony snorts. “Please, I didn’t even make a dent in the alcohol. The kind of hangover I have isn’t that, J.”

“Yes, sir. I am well aware. And if I may say, I do believe the others are also.”

He frowns, but says nothing to that as he pads to the restroom and then to change into something appropriate for Christmas morning. Whatever the hell that is. In the end he decides it’s a pair of nice sweatpants, not the kind that make him look like a sweaty jogger, and a ridiculous Christmas sweater Clint got him as a joke just because he’s pretty sure the archer thinks he’ll never wear it - and he probably won’t after this; in fact he thinks he’ll take another shirt with him to change into after the shock wears off and the gag isn’t funny anymore.

Tony moves along then to the elevator and snorts a little in displeasure at the holiday music - he had had all of the elevators in the building to play Christmas music 24/7 one day when he was still in good humor right after Thanksgiving - that is delightfully cheery and the complete opposite of how he feels at the moment. The torment doesn't last too long though as soon the elevator pings open onto the common floor. Then again, he realizes maybe he's only escaping one torment to be trapped by another.

Only, when he steps out of the elevator, it's unusually quiet. In fact, as he begins to look around, the team isn't there. "JARVIS?" He asks suspiciously as he wanders in further. He heads toward the lounge and stops in his tracks when line of sight falls on the Christmas tree. He rubs his eyes and then looks around. He's pretty certain he's not dreaming.

Standing several feet in front of him, in front of the tree, looking like he's waiting with fond amusement for Tony to react, is Bruce. "You're really here?" Tony doesn't trust himself because never before has he _literally_ felt like the metaphorical child on Christmas morning.

Bruce's thin smile widens. "I'm really here," he says, just above a whisper.

It's all Tony needs to to hear to cross the distance that's left between them and take Bruce's face into his hands and kiss him with all the need that's been building up inside over the past four months. Bruce clutches at him and kisses him back with just as much need that he can't help but wonder why the other man stayed away for so long. How could either of them have that much fortitude?

When they're forced to break apart, Tony immediately rests his forehead against Bruce's. He closes his eyes and shakes his head minutely against him. "I've missed you. Four months, Bruce. Four months." He knows it sounds ridiculous because he'd gone forty years without even knowing the man at all and that he's lucky it wasn't six months or a year or four or forty more.

"I'm sorry," Bruce apologizes and Tony moves back just enough to meet his gaze. It's then he realizes they both have tears in their eyes. "I never should have listened to him."

Tony feels his face darken. "Him? Fury?"

Bruce nods with no small amount of guilt on his face. "He said I was just fooling myself if I thought it could last. I... You know I already had my doubts. I was trying to get over them, but he just..." Bruce sighs and shakes his head. "I know it's not fair. It's not an excuse, but I didn't want to wake up one morning and find out you weren't really serious or that you'd moved on. I expect that sort of thing, but it doesn't mean I deal with it well. I didn't want a reason to be angry with you. I'm angry at a lot of things and a lot of people, Tony," he says soberly, looking him squarely in the eyes. "But I never want one of them to be you. So I thought it might be best not to risk that. Not when I had already fallen as hard as I had."

"Then it's just as much my fault for not making it clearer sooner," Tony says and Bruce's face scrunches up quixotically. "I love you." He lets the words linger just long enough to make a point. "I love you and I should have chased you down the moment I suspected Fury had said something to make you doubt that. I... I don't care who believes me, but it's the truth. I want you to believe me at least."

Bruce searches his eyes. "I do," he says evenly and Tony knows him well enough to know when he's telling the truth no matter how hard it is for him. "I believe you," he says again and it's sealed with another deep kiss. "And I love you too," Bruce says, pulling away just enough for the words to be comprehensible. "I love you and I never should have run. Or I should have come back sooner or at least let you know where I was at." They kiss again and now it's hunger for the contact that they've not had since he left. "Incidentally..." Bruce says between kisses, "...I was miserable... and kept hoping..." He gives up for a moment as they get lost in each other until they need to breathe again. "I kept hoping you'd break your promise and come find me," Bruce finally finishes.

"Well, damn it, that would have been helpful information three and a half months ago," Tony says with a shaky laugh as his lungs refill with oxygen. "But you probably would have been contrary just for the hell of it if I had," he adds teasingly.

"I can see myself doing that, yes," Bruce admits with his own breathy laugh that Tony wants to swallow and make a part of himself, so he does.

This kiss is even more desperate than the last and Tony has to wonder if he they won't just have their way with each other right there, underneath the tree. The idea even seems almost appropriate since Bruce is better than anything else that he could unwrap. He makes a note to buy another Christmas tree for the penthouse even as their bodies press impossibly closer together and their hands seem to start a race to see who can touch the other more intimately first. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, there's an _ahem_ behind them which forces them to call it a draw and break apart.

"See, I told you we would want to give them some time alone to talk," Clint says with a knowing smirk and Natasha's lips quirk upward.

Steve shakes his head. "Please tell me you two actually got in a little bit of talking first. Because you realize that's part of a healthy relationship?"

Tony looks at Bruce and they share a small laugh. "We've got it settled now, thanks," Bruce says, still amused. Then before Tony can ask what's happening, their teammates walk over and stick three gift bows on Bruce's shirt and he laughs again, more openly, head falling back on his shoulders. "Oh god. This doesn't feel like objectification _at all._ "

"I'm inclined to agree that Bruce Banner is a gift, but this might be taking it a little far," Tony says with a confused smirk as he looks at the others.

"Oh, so you guys didn't get to the part of the conversation where he tells you we're the ones who tracked him down and set the story straight with Fury," Clint states, because it's not a question. Tony's relatively certain the archer knows it's a miracle they got anywhere in the conversation at all after four months apart.

"You guys did that?" Tony wills away a disbelieving expression so as not to seem like the jerk who doesn't trust his teammates, but after Fury's little mind game a little part of him is disbelieving.

"Well," Steve shrugs, "we didn't know what else to get you for Christmas."

"Seriously, we've been trying to figure it out since Halloween," Clint adds.

Natasha rolls her eyes. "What they mean is, Fury had no right to do what he did. If we had known sooner we would have supported you in finding Bruce." She then gives them a calculating look. "Fury's wrong about you two. So Merry Christmas, Stark." She then tilts her head and moves one of the bows from Bruce over to Tony's forehead. "Merry Christmas, Dr. Banner."

Tony laughs and looks at Bruce, eyes taking in all of him at once. "It is now," he says warmly.

"It is now," Bruce agrees and they share another quick kiss.

"Good," Steve says as he turns in the direction of the kitchen. "I'm going to go get started on Christmas brunch so if you two were planning on unwrapping your gifts, make it quick." 

Tony's eyes widen slightly and he looks to see that Bruce is pointedly not looking at anyone, Natasha seems impressed, and Clint is looking at him with a slight look of disgust. "Dude," Clint says, "if you do, at least change your shirt first. Please."

Tony looks down and snorts. When he looks up again he meets with Bruce's wry expression. Tony winks and pulls off the sweater in a deft move, leaving him in a thermal undershirt, and throws it at the archer. "Merry Christmas, Birdbrain." 

"No fair," Bruce joins in on his humor as they head for the elevator, "now there's less to unwrap." Amused and turned on both, Tony ignores the groans behind them and all but tackles Bruce into the elevator.

As they head for the penthouse, Tony thinks it's amazing how much his attitude toward Christmas music changes for the better when making out with the man he loves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a Christmas song suggestion? [Ask](http://snark-and-banter.tumblr.com/ask) or comment with the song/artist and I'll see what I can do. Literally, any artist is welcome without judgment on my part. Don't believe me? I even have tweenybopper artists on my iPod and Spotify Christmas playlist. I have no shame when it comes to this time of year. I am the Darcy Lewis of Christmas music.


	2. Kiss Him Once For Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somebody waits for Bruce and at the rate he's going, he's going to have to kiss that somebody a lot.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by Lady Antebellum's version of [Have A Holly Jolly Christmas](https://play.spotify.com/track/0dMWL9laoZYIySUxSrRSil) (or any comparable version only with the lyrics reimagined from 'kiss her' to 'kiss him').

It starts on December 1st. Bruce laughs at it the first few times and maybe he'll laugh at it again in the future, but before the first week of December is even over he begins to remember why he doesn't talk to people, doesn't do small chat, and most certainly doesn't let down his guard. Then again, letting down his guard is at least ninety percent of the problem. 

"You look like you're missing someone, sweetie," says the sterotypical, overfriendly waitress at the diner he stops in at in Texas. Another part of the problem is that he came back to the US at all. "What's their name?" She prods.  

Bruce hesitates. He knows he shouldn't, but before he can run down the list of all the reasons why he tells her. "Uh, Anthony," he hedges slightly just in case. "His name is Anthony."

"Anthony," she repeats with a smile. "So, is this Anthony a family member or someone a little more special?"

If Bruce were more confrontational, he might protest the idea that a family member isn't 'special' but he understands her meaning and he's too busy mulling over the answer to protest even if he were more confrontational.

"Aha, yeah he is," the waitress says knowingly before he can respond. Bruce realizes he had smiled against his own volition at the thought of Tony.

"Yeah. He's special," Bruce admits. _Too special,_ he doesn't say. 

"Well, I hope you don't have to miss him too long. Christmas is coming--"

"Uh... It's... It's complicated," he says before he can stop himself. 

"Well, I won't prod, dearie. But if there's one thing I've learned in my life it's don't let a person go without a fight."

"I left him," Bruce says ruefully. "I was... uncertain."

"Oh well if there's anything else I've learned it's don't leave a person waiting too long. That's a sure way to not get what you want. Assuming your man is waiting for you."

Bruce blinks several times. "He is," he says, dazed but full of conviction. 

"Well, then, get yourself to wherever he is if you can, hon," she urges. "And when you do give him a kiss for me," she then teases, gesturing toward the old radio playing the familiar Christmas song.

Bruce laughs and shakes his head as she finally leaves to get back to her job.

After that fateful moment on December 1st, it's as if everyone gets the memo that Bruce misses Tony and Bruce can't turn a corner without chatty strangers bringing up the topic in some way or another.

There's the guy at the soup kitchen he volunteers at in a town he's passing through who says, "It's been ten years since my Rosie died. You got anyone special at home?"

Bruce replies, "Yeah, but I haven't been home in a while."

The guy just hums and looks to be considering the situation. "Well, if they care I'm sure they'll wait until you can make it back. Hope it's soon. I know how it feels to be alone this time of year when you have someone you'd like to be with."

"I'm sorry about your loss," Bruce offers genuinely. 

"And I wish you the best of luck for you and yours. When you make it back, you do like that song says and kiss 'em once for me."

Then there's the elderly sisters on the bus that ask him if he's heading anywhere special for the holidays. At this point his desire and resolve are still at odds with one another. So he politely says, "I'm not sure yet."

"It's almost Christmas. Nobody to go home to?" One sister asks in seemingly genuine concern.

Bruce shakes his head gently. "There's somebody, just not sure if it's home. You ever have that feeling?" He asks them curiously because it weighs on his mind too heavily. 

"Oh, of course," the other sister says with a laugh. "It wouldn't be love if you weren't just a little confused. It all depends on if you can walk away and stay away. If so, I'm not sure it's love."

Bruce furrows his brow. "What if you walk away because there's no other choice?"

The other sister says, "Well, now, that _is_ a little trickier. Sometimes you do have to walk away from someone you care about for very real reasons." She looks at her sister as if to say Bruce has a point. "But if it's because the other person is hurting you then it's not love." 

"It's not like that," Bruce counters quickly. "I'm the one afraid of maybe hurting him. And I couldn't live with myself if..." He shakes his head.

"Oh, well, dear then it already is love," one sister says simply.

"Now the question is does he love you?" 

Bruce sighs. "I don't know. I think... Maybe?"

"Only one way to find out."

 _If only it was that simple_ , Bruce thinks.

Maybe he walked away because it was easier not to know. If he doesn't know then his feelings are onesided and he can try to believe Tony can move on in time and realize it was all wrong. But he also already knows better in spite of having never heard the explicit "I Love You" from Tony. Tony said it in a million other ways, in gestures grandiose and intimate and in between. Tony said it in other words like, "You're brilliant. You're gorgeous. Need a little space? I trust you. You're not a monster. I won't let anyone come after you."

"I might give it a shot," Bruce says since he would rather end the conversation and he knows the two women mean well.

"Well, best of luck," one sister says.

"I'm sure he's handsome so kiss him for me," the other says playfully.

Then there's the kid at the toy drive Bruce volunteers at in Tennessee who snags the last Iron Man action figure with a wild cheer. His mom seems grateful for that as well and Bruce can guess it's because he's wanted nothing but that and without the toy drive she wouldn't have been able to afford it.

"I've met Iron Man," he decides to divulge and the bright expression that lights up his face makes it worth it.

"Really!? Is he super cool?" The boy asks.

"The coolest," Bruce answers with a smile. "He's the smartest man I've ever met. He's brave. Amazing. A hero through and through. And I know if I ever got the chance to tell him about you and the other kids here, he'd probably send you all the rest of the Avengers action figures."

"That would be so awesome!" The boy says dreamily and Bruce makes a note to get some information about the families there if he can.

"You sound like someone who's more than met Iron Man," the boy's mother says knowingly after he runs off to talk to a friend.

"Um..." Bruce knows he looks like a deer in headlights. "I... I just... I thought he might get a kick out of it."

She doesn't look as though she believes him. "Well if you ever do meet him, give him my regards," she says with a small smile.

"Let me guess," Bruce says with dry humor. "Kiss him once for you?"

"Or send him my way if he's not already taken," she says with a teasing smile, eyes still gleaming with knowing.

By time Bruce gets on a bus on the 24th, he's lost track of how many people have managed to learn about the various layers of his star crossed longing for Tony. Or maybe he's managed to learn about the depth of his longing for Tony through those various people. He only knows when someone on the bus asks where he's headed he says, "Home. Somebody's waiting."

And sure enough as soon as he reaches the tower and uses his access card to get back up to the common floor of the Avengers' residence Tony's eyes go wide and the other man hurries over to accost him before he can move.

In fact, before he hurries over Tony glances up and very pointedly says, "Don't you dare move."

Bruce furrows his brow before realizing the obvious just as Tony captures his lips. Bruce melts into the kiss and hates when Tony pulls away tentatively, as if unsure if the kiss had been welcome. Bruce gently steps back just a bit and pulls Tony forward so that he's the one under the mistletoe and kisses him as a means of putting to rest any of Tony's doubt.

"There's plenty more where that came from," Bruce says in reference to the adventure he's had over the past month and then kisses Tony again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a Christmas song suggestion? [Ask](http://snark-and-banter.tumblr.com/ask) or comment with the song/artist and I'll see what I can do. Literally, any artist is welcome without judgment on my part. Don't believe me? I even have tweenybopper artists on my iPod and Spotify Christmas playlist. I have no shame when it comes to this time of year. I am the Darcy Lewis of Christmas music.
> 
> I have more ficlets coming that I've written. I've just been swamped in real life. I'm a little sad that I couldn't update this more regularly.


	3. I Saw Daddy Kissing Santa Claus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony decides to dress up as Santa Claus in order to fabricate his existence for his and Bruce's daughter. What could possibly go wrong?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus](https://open.spotify.com/track/3Xuij54EV89KTjiTW4s0x1). Suggested by [ikilledabuginthewall](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ikilledabuginthewall/pseuds/ikilledabuginthewall) only with daddy instead obviously. 
> 
> Original child character in this chapter named, surprise surprise, Rebecca. Maybe it's the same Rebecca from the 'Confusion' verse. Maybe it's not. I'm not at liberty to say. It could also very well be a daughter set in the future of another 'dadsville' verse or ten thousand I might write or have already written. I suppose the choice is up to you :) (I mean, hey, maybe it fits in multiple verses and can be accepted as canon in each haha. I'm okay with that! Maybe throw in a very big dog in one of them lol.)

"You realize she's not going to see this," Bruce pointed out as Tony put on a somewhat ridiculous Santa outfit. "And should we really be encouraging this kind of fantasy?"

Tony tilted his head forward to look at him over the rims of the fake spectacles. "You're kidding right? Her dads are occasionally Iron Man and Hulk. She has a god, a living legend and two master assassins as her practical godparents. And Uncle Phil once came back from the dead. I'm thinking this might be one of the more normal things we could encourage," Tony said with a laugh.

Bruce also gave a small, rusty chuckle. "Fair point."

"Besides," Tony shrugged, "you and I had crappy childhoods and didn't really get to believe in Santa so why not let her have what we didn't?"

Bruce smiled at that, smiled at Tony's concern and determination to be the father their fathers weren't. "You're right," he agreed. "But she still won't see you in the suit, Tony."

Suddenly Tony looked a little guilty. "Yeah, she, uh, she might have asked JARVIS if Santa would show up on the cameras. Asked if she could see the footage on Christmas morning."

"She's starting to get suspicious," Bruce said knowingly. His smile softened into something a little bittersweet and he suddenly realized just _how_ right Tony was. The idea that his little girl was losing her naivete was all at once a strange prospect. She was only four. He definitely wanted her to hold on a little longer where he and Tony hadn't been able to if it was at all possible. 

"Maybe," Tony replied as he put on the fake beard and then the hat. "Which is why I'm going to try and keep the magic alive just a little bit longer if I can," he explained. He then held out his arms in show. "How do I look?"

Bruce looked him over and shook his head fondly. "Like you're just itching for me to say I have a Santa kink."

Tony barked out a soft laugh before hooking a finger into Bruce's pajama pants and pulling him closer. "You can be my elf if you want," he teased. "You don't even have to be nice. I'm pretty sure elves are exempt."

Bruce snorted and rolled his eyes before poking Tony in his pillow-stuffed stomach. "Come on, Santa. You have presents to deliver and a little girl to lie to."

"Situational lying, Bruce," Tony said pointedly. "It's not the same thing. I'm sure she'll laugh about it when she's older."

*  *  *  *

Rebecca woke suddenly. She listened hard in the dark until again she heard the mumbling of voices. Her daddies would be sleeping like she should be and it was Christmas Eve.

She sat up excitedly at the thought of who it might be. Maybe elves or Santa himself!

Rebecca carefully got out of bed and ever so slowly made her way toward the living room. She gasped at the sight of Santa Claus setting presents under their very big Christmas tree. She tried not to make any other noise so Santa wouldn't get angry that she wasn't in bed and take back the presents he was putting there. Like a really big Hulk plush! Probably even bigger than her!

She did gasp softly again however when one of her dads came into the room and stopped in the doorway. Rebecca almost called out, worried that Santa would be upset with him too, but then her eyes widened when Santa turned around and smiled brightly. Santa then looked up at the mistletoe that dangled over her dad's head.

Rebecca covered her mouth to muffle a small giggle when her dad looked up too and then looked back at Santa with a raised eyebrow. Before her dad could move – although maybe he didn't want to? – Santa walked over and kissed him.

Rebecca's eyes widened again when they kept kissing. Her daddy was kissing Santa like he kissed her other daddy. It was kind of funny, but she also crinkled her nose and wondered if her other daddy would find it funny too or be jealous. Suddenly her dad stopped kissing Santa and crinkled his own nose, closing one eye as he did, before tickling Santa under his beard.

Rebecca decided to tiptoe back to her room before either Santa or her daddy could find out she was awake. As she crawled back into bed, she wondered if sneaking to the living room or seeing daddy kissing Santa Claus would put her on the naughty list next year.

*  *  *  *

Tony haphazardly moved through the piles of toys and scattered wrapping paper as he returned to the couch with another cup of coffee for himself and the first cup of tea for Bruce. "Somebody was very good this year," he said with a small laugh as he handed Bruce his drink and then settled down on the couch beside him.

"You mean very spoiled," Bruce muttered under his breath with a wry smile.

"That too," Tony agreed.

"I was very, very good!" Rebecca beamed from where she sat on the floor playing with her various toys.

However, then her cute little face scrunched up like she was thinking hard about something and her smile fell. Her shoulders fell shortly after and Tony glanced at Bruce to see if he noticed. Bruce glanced back and shrugged.

"Sweet pea, is something wrong?" Bruce asked her.

"Will you be mad at me if I'm not on the nice list next year?"

"I guess that depends on what the offense is," Tony quipped, but a look from Bruce told him now wasn't the time for a joke since it was an obviously genuine question. "Hey, princess, what makes you think you won't be on the nice list next year, hmm?" He asked next. "Why, you'll probably one of the nicest kids on the nice list."

Tony set his coffee down on the side table and Bruce handed him his tea to set down as well. Then they gave all their attention to her.

"Becky, did you do something?" Bruce asked gently.

She nodded softly. "I heard voices that woke me up last night and I thought it might be Santa Claus so I went to find out." Tony's eyes widened and he glanced sideways at Bruce to see he'd had the same reaction. "I know I shouldn't have," she said forlornly. "I know good girls and boys stay in bed on Christmas Eve, but I wanted to know he was real. And he is!"

Tony smiled at that in spite of her having sneaked out of bed and maybe having seen some of her presents before morning. She was just being a normal kid after all, in his book.

"Is that so?" He asked her.

"Yeah! Yeah I saw him!" She cheered, bouncing a little. "Daddy saw him too! He—" She suddenly looked at Bruce and then down at the doll she had been playing with.

Tony's mouth fell open slightly and Bruce choked on air. "Do you think she…?" Tony started to ask. Bruce nodded minutely.

"Uh, sweetie, you can tell us anything. You know that," Bruce pressed.

"You kissed Santa," she mumbled just loud enough for them both to hear. She still didn't look up.

"No way!" Tony said dramatically and Rebecca startled a little, looking up for a moment and then back down quickly.

"Tony," Bruce warned.

Tony leaned over and said, "Trust me, honey, I've got this." He winked and Bruce held out a hand, gesturing for him to continue. "Wow, you seriously kissed Santa? Lucky!" He said loudly and Rebecca looked at him with wide eyes.

"Um, yeah…" Bruce started, looking a little hesitant. "When I went to get, uh, a late night snack… he was… there? And I was under the mistletoe so…"

Tony bit his lip to keep from snickering a little at Bruce's obvious struggle to fib to their daughter.

"Well, I for one am jealous. Not everybody gets a kiss from Santa Claus."

"You're not mad, daddy?" Rebecca asked Tony. "It _was_ kind of funny."

"I bet it was," Tony said with a laugh. "And, no, I'm not mad." He glanced at Bruce with a small smirk. "I would have done the same thing."

She sighed in relief. "I'm glad because daddy kissed Santa for a _really_ long time and just like he kisses you." Tony bit down on an involuntary chuckle and Bruce made a strangled sort of noise beside him.

"Santa's a good kisser huh?" Tony nudged Bruce.

"Decent," Bruce replied in deadpan, giving Tony a look that said, 'you can stop now.'

"And then he even tickled him under his beard," Rebecca continued.

"It was very scratchy," Bruce explained. "Definitely not the kind of facial hair I like," Bruce said with his own smirk in Tony's direction before looking back at their daughter. "Becky, come here," he said, gesturing for her with a nod of his head.

The little girl got up off the floor and sat on Bruce's lap. "Am I in trouble?" She asked. "For getting out of bed and seeing you kiss Santa?"

"No, sweetheart," Tony answered that question, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

"You _shouldn't_ have gotten out of bed," Bruce responded in a serious tone. "And next time if you hear voices in the house you should tell JARVIS immediately." Tony winced as he considered Bruce's point, his hand moving to his chest on instinct until Bruce found it and gave it a squeeze. "That way JARVIS can tell you if it's us making the noise or else alert us, okay?"

"Okay," Rebecca replied.

"Alright. And, Becky," Bruce continued in a tentative tone, "you understand that just because I, uh, kissed Santa, I still love your daddy, right? Your daddies still love each other very much."

Rebecca smiled widely and threw her small arms around both of their necks, or at least attempted to as best she could. "Of course I know that," she said smartly and kissed them both. "And you'll still love me too even if Santa does put me on the naughty list," she said knowingly.

"I’m fairly certain he won't," Tony assured her. "But, yes, we'll still love you even on the very off chance that he does." He kissed her nose and she scrunched her face in response, giggling and shaking it slightly. 

"Always and forever," Bruce promised and kissed the side of her head.

"And I'll always love you," she said with a determined nod of her head. Then her eyes lit up like she had an idea and she scurried off Bruce's lap.

Tony and Bruce turned their heads in unison, watching as she hurried over to the tree. She yanked off a piece of mistletoe that hung on one of the lower branches and came back over to stand behind the couch. She held it up as high as her arm could reach between them. The two men smiled at the gesture and then at each other.

"Merry Christmas, Bruce," Tony said, leaning in.

"Merry Christmas, Tony," Bruce replied back and closed the distance between them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a Christmas song suggestion? [Ask](http://snark-and-banter.tumblr.com/ask) or comment with the song/artist and I'll see what I can do. Literally, any artist is welcome without judgment on my part. Don't believe me? I even have tweenybopper artists on my iPod and Spotify Christmas playlist. I have no shame when it comes to this time of year. I am the Darcy Lewis of Christmas music.


	4. The 12 Days of Christmas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce writes in his journal the strange gifts he is being given by an anonymous admirer. (An Austen-esque period piece type thing.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by _The 12 Days of Christmas_. Requested by [ElleBear](http://archiveofourown.org/users/ElleBear/pseuds/ElleBear) who wanted it as a period piece a la Jane Austen including the characters using sappy superfluous language, only she wanted it without the period typical homophobia. So...essentially cracky not quite steampunk Jane Austen au? This is why we're friends haha.

December 25th

Today was Christmas Day. My tenth spent with the Walters. I believe it will be the last as well. I must seek what fortune I can in the world although I think little of what will come of it. To be a man of science would be my desire as I have said many times over.

My few friends and uncle insist the military is the surest course. My uncle is willing to find me a sponsor. He speaks hopefully of a man my father used to know by name of Thaddeus Ross. I have met him once at a dance after taking not two but three turns with his very lovely daughter Elizabeth. I was taken by the impression I am beneath the status of his daughter. As a man who prides himself in having keen sense and logic, I am very much in agreement. However, his disposition was quite abhorrent and I do not know if I would wish to have his sponsorship. I have also sought out the position of a school teacher. It would be a steady post and one preferable to the military.

Ah! it nearly slipped my mind to make mention of, but today I was the recipient of a young pear tree that had a young caged partridge upon one branch. The only indication of whom the gift was given by was a note that I shall inscribe in full here -

_On this first day of Twelvetide, please find this gift of a partridge in a pear tree. It is my fondest hope it and the other forthcoming gifts will inspire the conviction of my ardent desire to have your love as gift in return. I shall only sign my name as that which I hope to be known: Your True Love._

I have been perplexed the day long. Thinking it a joke at first my friends and relations insist it came not from them. But the prospect of an ardent admirer can only be in jest. Despite my perplexed nature, the gift was a treasure for my aunt. She has longed for a grove of pear trees for many long years. I have given it to her in turn for the purpose of beginning that grove.

The partridge I confess I set free as we did not need the bird for our meal and I have never been fond of caged creatures.

 

December 26th

The jest continues. And I am certain it must be a jest as today I was the recipient of not only a new gift: two very beautiful turtle doves, but yet another pear tree with partridge. Again was a note from this alleged hopeful lover -

_On this second day of Twelvetide I give you two turtledoves as a sign of my undying devotion. You will also find another pear tree for your garden and partridge for your table. Ever hopeful I remain Your True Love._

My aunt has another pear tree for her grove and my cousin Jennifer was taken by the sweetness of the birds so I allowed her to take them into her care. She was aghast that I would turn them away after such sentiment and I must confess I was nearly stirred to keep them, but sense and propriety are stronger in my mind. How am I to trust the undying devotion of a… person who wishes only to give gifts and not simply come to me in earnest?

My uncle was glad for another partridge as the first was ‘lost’; I feigned a malady at the evening meal, but in truth I am not certain if I could have had the stomach for the bird caught and caged only for the purpose of securing my affection.

 

December 27th

I am already growing weary of partridges and pear trees. In the same spirit of my previous gifts I was the recipient of a new gift and a repetition of gifts from the days prior. If this is to extend the entire course of Twelvetide my Aunt Elaine will have her grove of pear trees with no need to cultivate it from the seedlings of the first pear tree.

If this is to extend the entire course of Twelvetide, I will wish never to see another partridge for as long as I live. I set the partridge free before my Uncle could intervene a second time. The turtledoves, although similarly caged, continue to stir that traitorous part of my being. I suppose having a pair of turtledoves for my personal quarters is no hardship.

This day’s gift was a set of three hens. I will not copy the superfluous words accompanying the gift, but ‘my true love’ made it clear they are of the finest French quality. I am not certain I have ever known that French hens are supposed as superior to our native creatures.

 

December 28th

Today’s gift in addition to the others was four colly birds. If by some strange happenstance this is no elaborate game I am left with the conundrum of what sort of person gives four thrushes in the name of true love? I am not certain if I find it appalling or amusing. The note offered little help in the matter -

_These blackbirds remind me of you. Your dark features, your solemn eyes, the contrast of your perfect smiles in all their iterations._

So I am like a blackbird?

The only thing I know for certain is that ‘my true love’ seems to have quite an idea about my looks.

 

December 29th

I am beyond my wits to explain these gifts as a mere attempt at humor. Logic and sense fails to explain a reason as to why someone would give not one, but five golden rings in jest. I cannot even think of any among my closest acquaintances whom might afford such an expense. And if it should continue in the way it has been for the remainder of Twelvetide as promised, I will be the recipient of forty golden rings. I cannot fathom such a thing. It is almost as incomprehensible as the letter that I received along with the rings and menagerie of birds -

_As it may be too early to gift you with a single ring I present to you five._

I believe I will give four of the rings to my uncle for his kindness in taking me in. I will keep the fifth… as it may be a great help in establishing my own fortune. All others will be kept and returned to the far too generous hand of ‘my true love.’

 

December 30th

We are at the half of Twelvetide and my admirer presses on. This day’s gift was of more practicality at least - if not for the fact accompanied by five more rings of gold and the other gifts. Six geese were given and the gaggle proceeded shortly thereafter to lay a host of eggs. I briefly mused perhaps I am sought after by the fabled Jack himself and they would lay golden eggs  

My aunt was thrilled pink as it has been a good many months since we have had goose egg. Our own goose stopped laying at the start of summer and we did not anticipate the purchase of another before this coming spring. It is as if it were known by my strange would-be lover.

And it is not only I to have drawn such a conclusion.

The many gifts being sent to my uncle’s home has now become common gossip among the town. It is a price I had not accounted for and I do not know how I will show my face at the dance to be held tomorrow evening. These things are always a great taxing of my nerves at best and vexation at worst. To be questioned about the many gifts I have received will be a terrible thing to endure.

 

December 31st

I am unable to think of birds and rings and swans to-night: swans, of course, being the bird of choice this day; they were left to swim upon the pond on the edge of my uncle’s very humble estate.

Anthony Stark returned to us without so much as a hint to his having the notion. We were all taken quite unaware at his arrival at the party. None among us expected him to return to our countryside after his departure in late summer. When pressed upon the matter it would seem he has returned not only to visit for an evening or two, or even to let once more the house he kept for a year’s stay, but rather he intends to make purchase of that house as one of his own as to have a place of residence among us. As to be expected his arrival and this news was met with the greatest of thrills by all.

Anthony is a man of great fortune, of handsome features, and of cheery disposition - prideful but not thinking himself above befriending those beneath him. He is quite the sort of man any father and mother would want for their son or daughter. Also as expected gossip has turned toward his obviously being in love with one of the eligible daughters among us and has thus returned to be near her. There is even talk of it being Elizabeth which I would perhaps be right to begrudge if not for my closest secret.

Seeing Tony - as he allows me to call him - again and even taking two turns with him at the dance, a pleasure I have had only once before, I must confess I believe myself to be at the least a little in love with him. I have missed him acutely. He became a strange and dear friend o’er the course of his stay among us.

He is a man with a skill in science and invention, like his father before him, and many hours were spent together discussing these topics. He even granted me access to his treasure trove of scientific equipment. I cannot recall happier hours and would give every golden ring in the world to spend the rest at his side, even if only as a close friend. It is for this reason his return, for all the happiness it affords me - the easy way we took once again to one another at the party was a thrill I will not soon forget - will be a trial for me to bear.

It has at least diverted a great deal of the gossip away from myself, but not without the strange ordeal first making its way to Tony’s ears; I do believe he will not let up in teasing me about it.

 

January 1st

We awoke this morning to the gentle moo of eight cows upon our grounds. Accompanying these cows were eight milkmaids. I begin to question just where my true love expects us to keep all of these animals and milkmaids. How are we to provide pay for the milkmaids? How are we to provide proper pasture for grazing? It is truly absurd in addition to our growing flocks and gaggles and roost and trees. Is this the purpose of the many golden rings? Are they intended to help us afford such bizarre and extravagant gifts?

Tony came to call this afternoon to see the strange sight for himself. He believes my lover to be taken with insanity. I assured him I have long since the start come to that conclusion. He also made it his vow to find the source of these gifts himself on my behalf. In humor I wished him luck and sent him away with the wish that should he find the… man or woman responsible he make my request for no more caged partridges known.

 

January 2nd

I was not aware the gifts could become any more absurd. The nine ladies found dancing upon our lawn this very morning was proof to the contrary. It is a great fortune the weather has been fair, but we begged them at the least to come into our parlor since they refused to leave until dusk. I wrote immediately to Tony to make haste in finding this gift giver or I will have to go in search myself. I have never heard of such a thing! The letter said only -

_Until I may take another turn with you I have found others who may entertain you instead. I hope only that you do not lose your heart to one who is not myself._

The logic behind the gift remains unclear, but I am inclined to admit my heart beats faster at the affirmation it is someone with whom I am at least a little acquainted. But I have taken turns dancing with many as propriety demands it of a man of two and twenty. And only one has any claim to my heart; it is already nearly lost.

 

January 3rd

The nine ladies from yester-day returned to dance again at my uncle’s home. They brought with them nine more ladies and were accompanied by ten men of lordly appearance leaping with a grace to match the fair ladies’ steps. I am nearly amused by the audacity of such gifts.

Tony is entirely amused. He visited again to-day and with his candid spirit suggested we take a turn with them. I cannot find it in myself to resist his jovial nature. I am glad I did not resist more than what is proper as rather than his meaning be for us each to dance with one of the many ladies to spare it was for us to dance with one another alongside the others.

I must confess myself to be more than a little in love with him.

 

January 4th

Three sets of nine ladies came to us and brought with them two sets of ten lords. They danced in time to the music of eleven pipers who came as well. This went on for about a quarter of an hour before my uncle pleaded with them to leave. Tony - whom I suspect is enjoying this far more than is kind - arrived and sent them off to his house as compromise. I accompanied him to his home as well, in the same spirit of compromise, and quickly forgave Tony his finding humor at my expense as it was a luxury I might not have afforded otherwise.

The day was spent as our many previous happy days were spent, in a delightful exchange of ideas and inquiry. It is almost as if our minds and souls are in accord. I wished not to part when the proper time came and if not for the knowledge I have of my own feelings I would have taken advantage of the use of a guest room offered by one friend to another.

Upon leaving, Tony said -

‘You know, I did not notice a caged partridge this morning. Perhaps word has reached your true love.’

In all the confusion of dancing ladies and leaping lords I had not paid close attention. The partridges have not been caged since making mention of it to Tony.

It cannot be...

 

January 5th

Twelvetide is at an end and my final gifts were that of twelve drummers drumming, eleven more pipers piping, ten more lords leaping, nine more ladies dancing, eight more maids milking, seven more swans swimming, six more geese laying, five more gold rings, four more colly birds, three more French hens, two more turtle doves, and one final uncaged partridge with a pear tree. The final letter reads -

_I am certain, my brilliant friend, you have guessed the intent of my gifts these twelve days past. May your aunt have the grove of pear trees she has always longed for. May your uncle have as many partridges as he can have his fill of. May our souls always be as entwined as a pair of turtledoves. May your family have all of the riches they deserve, be it gold or livestock. May you always wish to dance with the one deeply and hopelessly in love with you no matter the number of partners either of you may choose from. Certainly you must understand that these many days past I have only been giving one gift to you: myself. I am strange and extravagant and mean not to buy your affection with gifts rather to shower you and yours with all that my wealth can afford. As a man I have very little in the way of true fortune to offer, but is my sincerest hope you might wish to accept that which I do. For I wish to be ever Your True Love._

I am filled with unspeakable hope.

 

January 6th

Tony found my true love as promised and I did not hesitate to give him the gift which he hoped for in return.

For my dearest Tony already had my love as his own to keep from the start. I can only wonder at my good fortune that I have always had his also.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have many requests and suggestions that I am attempting to get to writing before Christmas!


	5. Dear Santa, I Wrote You A Letter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce Banner works at a department store in Manhattan. Tony Stark is promoting a line of new kid-friendly tech for the upcoming holiday season. It's exactly the right time for them to meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An anon on Tumblr requested [Bring Me Love](https://open.spotify.com/track/6IQsoHT46PRazBIWa4379B) by Marie Digby. 
> 
> And yeah so this ended up not having much to do at all with the song other than the letter aspect and romance so I'm super sorry about that. It's a no powers universe and reads like a reader's digest* Hallmark Christmas movie with a touch of inspiration from Elf for the setting. It's not overly Christmas-y either. (*reader's digest in that there's a lot of 'it happens off screen' type stuff, but try to cut me some slack as it ended up at 6000 words as is and I only have so much time to write these holiday oneshots :3)

Bruce looked over the overly festive holiday display in the children's department of the Manhattan department store with a ghost of a smile. He didn't love Christmas. In fact, he'd had a lot of different reasons to hate it over his life time. Still, he loved kids and as floor supervisor of the children's department he could forego his own cynicism to give kids a glimpse of the holidays. He knew well enough that for some of them it may be the only glimpse they got if the wandered in with hopes of the toys they may or may not get on Christmas morning or to see Santa when he came to visit. True, Bruce also hated the consumerism and superficiality and materialism of the holiday that got kids' hopes up to begin with, but that couldn't be helped. He couldn't assume everybody lost faith in the holiday because of bad experiences.

"Well it definitely looks like Santa's workshop if that's what you were going for."

"It is," Bruce answered, but then scrunched his face. He turned in confusion to see who had spoken. The store wasn't open yet after all so save the other employees already there, whose voices he all knew, the person shouldn't be there. "Can I help—" He paused and frowned slightly. It was genius and billionaire Tony Stark. "Oh. Are you lost, Mr. Stark? I can direct you to upper management if—"

"No, no need." Stark flapped a hand at him. "I know where it is. Just wanted to get an idea of what I'll be working with over the next two weeks."

Bruce was more confused than before. "Excuse me?"

"Oh, right, probably why I shouldn't have stopped by." Stark scrunched his own face, one eye closing in lopsided sort of way. "You're probably not supposed to know that until whatever meeting we have later so if we could keep that between us."

Bruce pursed his lips. He wasn't sure what was going on, but the words _working with_ and _two weeks_ implied something unpleasant in addition to a circumstance he was already less than thrilled about. Stark Industries had a new line of technology aimed at children that for some dumb reason or another – to create demand obviously – would be exclusive to the chain of stores under the S.H.I.E.L.D. flagship of corporations, one of which was this one. Bruce understood the purpose of technology of course, but the push to make kids clamor for tech, tech, tech didn't sit right with Bruce. It felt like another way of classing people – those who could buy in to the modern age and those who simply couldn't keep up, which usually had to do with lower and lower-middle class reasons to begin with.

"You haven't really told me anything pertinent, so I guess it shouldn't be a problem," Bruce said with a shrug and attempted to get back to his job. If Stark was allowed to be there and wanted to look around, it wasn't his place to say otherwise.

"Are you single?"

Bruce's head shot up, eyes widened, and he turned back around in utter disbelief. Tony Stark was standing there looking at him with a blinding smile that – _no did not do anything for him; of course not_ – took him even further off guard.

"Did you really just ask me out?" He asked evenly.

"Well, no, I asked if you were single," Stark answered. "But admittedly it would have prefaced a follow up question of that nature if you answered yes."

"Does Tony Stark actually ask people out?" Bruce deflected, and tried to ignore the way his heart pounded just a little harder at the prospect. "Especially people who are… well, I'm not exactly a Maxim model," he opted for.

Stark made an exasperated face and rolled his eyes. "I don't exactly ask out Maxim models. Or most models in general. If that's what you mean."

"Of course you don't," Bruce replied, understanding his meaning. "But you ask out regular Joes in department stores."

"If they interest me…" Stark started, but then tilted his head slightly. "Okay, you'd be the first, but it's still a genuine proposition."

Bruce gave him a look that he hoped said, "Seriously?" He then shook his head and moved to begin running a quick check over the store to make sure everything was in place for the morning. He could feel Stark on his heels. "You realize even if I had told you if I'm single, that doesn't mean I'm into men," Bruce said just to be stubborn.

"Really? You're not?" Stark asked in an incredulous tone. "I mean, I just assumed—" Bruce turned on his heel, underestimating Stark's proximity. He ran into him and lingered probably a few seconds too long in a daze before stepping back and attempting not to look too affected. Still, Stark smirked. "Oh, I think I assumed correctly."

Bruce huffed at that. "You know, that's a little offensive. You still assumed for whatever reason that I'm into men."

"And you assumed I'm only into Maxim models," Stark pointed out.

Bruce opened his mouth to respond, but his mind momentarily drew a blank. Stark looked pleased with himself so he quickly scrambled for a counter argument. "Yes, well, I'm not in the tabloids on a semiregular basis with men."

"Go out with me and you will be," Stark promised in a breezy tone. "But you still did assume based on an unreliable source," he continued. "Which is offensive. I mean, I'm _not_ offended, don't get me wrong. I'm just making a point. And, you know, I get the sense that you're being hostile for some reason."

"I'm not…" Bruce sputtered only to check himself slightly. Okay, so he was maybe not happy about Stark's presence, but he wouldn't say he was being hostile. At least not unreasonably considering he was being accosted by Tony Stark… Okay, maybe he was being a _little_ unreasonable.

"Ah, Mr. Stark," came an even voice. Stark turned and Bruce looked past his shoulder to see Phil Coulson, the store manager. "I see you've already met the man you'll be working with for the next two weeks."

Even though he had known to an extent it was coming, Bruce's eyebrows shot up. Stark looked at him as if pleasantly surprised.

"Oh so this is the floor supervisor?" Stark asked with a smile and then looked back at Phil. "I actually did not know that."

"Now you do," Bruce said and then, taking a small breath, extended his hand in an attempt to prove he wasn't unreasonable.

"Tony Stark," he said, taking the hand. "Of course you already knew that. Call me Tony, I insist."

Bruce put on a customer service smile and said, "I'm Bruce Banner. You can call me—"

"Bruce Banner?" Tony looked at him like he'd just been told all the world was made of candy and edible or something – Bruce maybe spent too many hours in the children's department if he was thinking in terms of Candy-land or Wonka. "As in… As in _Dr._ Bruce Banner?"

"Um…" Bruce pulled back from the handshake, unsure of how to respond. It had been a long time since anyone recognized his name casually. Bruce Banner was certainly a common enough name he figured and not many people were into physics. "I… That is…" He sighed. "Yes."

"And you're working retail?" Tony responded as if absolutely scandalized.

"Also yes," Bruce said with a small shrug as if to ask what the point was, although he had a pretty good idea.

"I guess you two should get along just fine," Phil interrupted. "Two smart guys like you should have plenty to talk about. As long as we're all here," Phil continued, "let's round everybody up and have our meeting now. I'll be right back," Phil added before leaving again.

"Dr. Bruce Banner," Tony repeated and Bruce tried to hold back his discomfort. After all, he had to work with the man apparently. "Okay, I thought there was something special about you before, but now I really need to know if you're single, into men, and willing to go out."

Bruce studied the other man carefully as his head spun a little. “Yes, I am. Also yes.” He paused. “But I’m not entirely sure that’s a good idea,” he said honestly.

Tony seemed stunned and a shadow of disappointment fell over his face briefly before he seemed to regain his previous smug demeanor. “I can change your mind.”

“Yeah, well, have fun trying,” Bruce said flippantly, but secretly wondered why Tony would even want to.

 

* * *

 

Bruce stifled a small, rusty chuckle as he watched the teen boy at the service desk desperately trying not to fall asleep on his feet. His hand held a pencil resting on a notebook and open text book.

"Peter," Bruce said the boy's name and he immediately jerked awake. He shook his head gently at him. "How much sleep did you get last night?"

Peter scratched at the back of his neck. "Uh, maybe three hours?" He answered and Bruce raised his brow in askance. "I've been working on a project for an internship application at Oscorp," he explained. "Between that, work, helping Aunt May around the house and homework, sleep's kind of taken a backseat." He shrugged even as he looked dead on his feet.

Bruce sighed. "Well, it shouldn't. Trust me on that one." He glanced down at his watch. "You're here for another hour right?" Peter nodded. "Alright, I can handle the desk for a half an hour. Go crash in the break room for a bit."

"Are you sure?" Peter asked, but shut his text book in a hopeful sort of way.

"Yeah, you need the rest and I need this desk manned by somebody who can see straight."

"I can handle it."

Bruce tensed up. Tony was always popping up when he least expected him. He had been hanging around shadowing the place and getting direct consumer feedback on his products. The genius billionaire made Bruce uncomfortable in many different, conflicting ways.

He turned to look at Tony as Peter left. "I don't think so," he replied.

"Why not?" Tony protested.

"Have you ever worked retail?" Bruce asked easily.

"Well, no, but—"

"Then that's a pretty good reason," Bruce finished as he moved to stand behind the service desk.

Tony placed both hands on said desk and leaned across it, far too close. "What's the point of my hanging around this place if I don't get the full experience?"

Bruce frowned. "You know, I've been wondering the same thing," he said.

Tony was only there because it apparently looked better for his brand if he was the one visiting the stores and not sending a lackey to do it. Or at least that was the answer he had managed to weasel out of him at one point over the course of his time there so far. Mostly he was just in the way as far as Bruce was concerned. It didn't matter how charming or intelligent or attractive he was.

"Why don't you—"

"Customer," Bruce mumbled as he saw the tell-tale sign of a woman approaching with a return. He sighed. "Okay, get back here and let me handle this. You can watch. Pretend I'm, I don't know, training you or something."

Tony nodded and quickly moved into the space behind the counter with him, managing to crowd in as close as possible. Bruce gave him a look before sighing again and putting on a smile to greet the customer.

"How can I assist you today?" He asked her once she reached the service desk.

"Um, yes, I would like to return this," she said. Bruce bit down on an unprofessional snort as she pulled out one of the very kid-friendly tablets Stark was there to get consumer feedback on and to promote.

"Was there something wrong with it?" Tony asked earnestly before Bruce managed to realize he might do just that let alone warn him not to.

Bruce winced and gave the woman, clearly startled, an apologetic look. "You do not have to answer that question," he assured her. He looked at Tony, who seemed confused. "The item is unopened and there's a receipt. She doesn't have to explain her reasons."

"What if I'm curious?" Tony countered and looked back at the woman. Bruce looked at her as well, cringing as he did, and saw the exact moment she recognized the man beside him.

"You're him," she said in disbelief. "You're Tony Stark."

Tony put on a wide smile and nodded. "Yes, I am. And I'm not mad that you're returning it, just curious as to the reason. If there was something wrong with it, it would be a matter of concern to take back to my company."

Bruce had to admit Tony was handling the situation tactfully enough now that there was an open dialogue. Still, he sincerely hoped this didn't anger her in any way.

The woman looked down in clear embarrassment and Bruce immediately guessed the reason. Before he could assure her again that she didn't need to explain, she said, "My fiancé bought it for our son, but we just can't really afford it right now. We thought we might be able to make it work, but we can't. It's not the product. We've tried it in the demonstration area." She gestured toward the section of the department Stark Industries had commandeered solely for its own promotion of the new line of kid-friendly tech. "It's just a little out of our budget for the time being."

Bruce gave her an empathetic look and went to grab the scanner. Before he could, Tony stopped his hand with one of his own. Bruce gave him a strange look and made a small noise of protest.

"How old is your son?" Tony asked intrusively. "How about his education? Is he a good student? Does he struggle in any area?"

The woman blinked a few times. "Well, he's six and actually he's an above average student in most subjects. He's struggles a little with English," she said. "But that's because his school just doesn't offer him the support he needs. He's not challenged in the areas he needs challenged in and he doesn't get the help he needs in English."

Tony let go of Bruce's hand and pulled out his phone. Bruce looked down to see him texting his personal assistant, a Pepper Potts whom Bruce had met twice, requesting her to send him a digital instant rebate for half off on the specific tablet the woman was returning. He blinked several times and stared at Tony, unsure of what to do with that.

Once Tony was finished sending the message, he looked at the woman with an easy smile. "What if I offered you an instant rebate good for half off the cost of the tablet?"

The woman looked stunned. "Seriously?"

"Seriously," Tony confirmed.

"Well, I don't know… I mean…" She considered it for a long moment. "I think we could handle that cost," she finally said with a nod and grateful smile.

"Great," Tony said as he looked back down at his phone. He pulled up an electronic coupon and showed it to Bruce. "I think if you scan that you'll find everything in order and can refund her half of her cost."

Bruce blinked again, but did as suggested. He scanned the receipt and then the coupon. The coupon took and the register opened. He made quick work of refunding the woman some of her money and returning the product and receipt to her in a new bag.

"Is there anything else I can help you with today?" He asked. She shook her head and indicated her gratitude. "You have a wonderful day," he said then with a smile and waited for her to leave. "What was that?" He asked.

"Uh…" Tony looked at him like it was a trick question. "A woman got a rebate?"

"No, not that—I mean…" He groaned. "Come with me," he said, pushing past him and out onto the floor. He paused when he found another employee putting items back in place on the shelves. "Think you can manage the service desk for about five or so minutes for me?" The employee nodded and went to do so.

Bruce continued to lead Tony over to the demonstration area and then stopped in an area where they could both observe unobtrusively the scene of kids and parents swarming around the various functioning devices.

"What are we doing?" Tony asked.

Bruce scanned the group of kids and spotted one that would help him make his case. "Notice anything unusual?" He nodded toward the kids.

Tony narrowed his eyes. "Not really. Just a bunch of kids clamoring to get a turn on one of the devices," he replied.

"All of them?" Bruce supplied a bridge to his point.

Tony looked again. "Well, not that girl over there," he said in regards to a girl of about eight or nine who skimmed along the outskirts of the area and only glanced over every now and then to get a good look. His tone, however, was hesitant as if not sure that's what Bruce meant.

"Precisely," Bruce affirmed. "And as long as I've been doing this job and having been that kid before, I'd be willing to bet she knows her family can't afford any of these gadgets for Christmas no matter how much she wants one. It's a sort of look don't touch thing. But I'm also willing to bet once all the other kids are gone, she'll go over there as fast as she can to get in at least a little bit of a turn while she has a chance."

Tony sighed beside him. "I get it, okay?"

"Do you?" Bruce asked bitterly and walked away from the area towards a more discreet location for such a confrontation – a confrontation he was sure had been brewing the entire week. He turned to look at Tony. "You said the first day we met you were sensing a little hostility. And that's why," he said, pointing back toward the location from whence they came. "Products like yours… Hell, most of the products in this place just reaffirm the class divide. But especially products like yours," he reiterated. "They're everywhere now. Can't get away from them like a fad toy that won't be popular six months from now. Nowadays a kid doesn't have a tablet or something similar they're not only ridiculed by their peers who do have them, but often they fall behind in terms of progress. It's like… It's like a kid who struggles with illiteracy. We live in a digital age and there is a serious digital illiteracy issue that just can't be waved away. And that's a lot of pressure to put on a kid. But all you cared about was making that sell—"

"You're wrong," Tony suddenly interrupted him and Bruce blinked. "That's not what that was about." Tony leaned in and spoke in a low, serious tone. "Why do you think I asked those questions, huh? About the kid? I wanted to see if that kid needed the tablet, if it might help. Had the mom answered differently I would have just let you take her return. But that kid needs challenged and that's the whole purpose of these products. You just said yourself we have a digital illiteracy issue and I'm trying to change that."

Bruce looked at him dubiously. "By marking them up to a price that keeps them out of the hands of the kids that need them most?" He wanted to scoff at Tony's audacity.

"Top down principle, Bruce," Tony said with no small amount of conviction. "You think I marked these products up? I fought tooth and nail to get them down to the price they're at now. I'm a CEO and I do have trustees and shareholders to keep happy. But you better believe I'll keep fighting to drive the cost down until they're more accessible." Bruce was stunned speechless as Tony continued. "Look, I realize they're not where they need to be yet and I hate it. But this is about creating a brand in this area that people trust and proving to my trustees and shareholders that they can turn a profit from the people who can afford them. Eventually the point of all of this, the reason I want this promotion to succeed, the whole reason I'm willing to play shadow here, is to get these things into the classrooms with rental or scholarship programs. Once the profit is there, I have more wiggle room to get these devices into the hands of the kids I designed them for. The kids like that woman's son who isn't being challenged enough and could benefit from the education apps I did my damndest to make sure would truly help those kids because _I've been there_. I know what it's like. Or to help those kids who aren't getting enough support at home or in the classroom and need an extra buddy even if it’s a digital one. This isn't about making a sell, Bruce. It's about working from the inside out, using the system against itself to affect change."

Bruce searched the other man's intense eyes and saw he meant every word of it. Bruce felt his stomach lurch with a pang of guilt at the same time his chest tightened a little with the feelings of attraction he'd been working hard to ignore. He really had let his own prejudice get in the way of giving Tony an even chance.

"You're a philanthropist," Bruce said in quiet awe. He'd heard the term used about the man before, but had chalked it up to the usual public relations routine that surrounded rich tycoons.

"I am," Tony replied. "But more than that, I'm a futurist. And that over there," he pointed towards the demonstration area, "those kids and what they can do if given the opportunities… That's the future."

Bruce couldn't fight the emotions he felt over being presented with the full picture of the man in front of him. He wasn't just charming or intelligent or attractive. He was a man on a mission, with conviction and passion and heart. He was the kind of man…

"You changed my mind," he confessed before he could stop himself. His eyes widened when he realized what he'd done. After he'd assumed the worst about Tony, why would the other man still be even marginally interested?

Tony's eyes widened too, but then an eager smile spread across his face which was unexpected. "I wasn't trying to change your mind about that," Tony started, "but I never waste an opportunity. What are you doing later?"

Bruce smiled thinly, grateful that he hadn't ruined his chance. "I guess I'll let you figure that out," he replied. "Does eight work for you?"

"You could have said midnight and the answer would still be yes," Tony responded and Bruce felt a pleasant and somewhat unfamiliar warmth spread through him.

 

* * *

 

Bruce finished setting up the rope barricade and signs for the line to meet Santa. He then stepped back and looked over the festive area. He looked at his watch and looked around for the employees who had volunteered for elf duty. He then looked over to where Peter was assisting the employee from the in-store photo studio.

"Pity. I had hopes you were going to be one of Santa's elves."

Bruce turned with a small smile to see Tony looking at him with an impish one.

"I have to wear green and red. Isn't that punishment enough?" He asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Oh, I don't know," Tony said, and pulled him close as he looked him over. "I think green seems to suit you somehow." Then his face lit up in that way Bruce had quickly come to know as the look he got when he'd had an epiphany… for better or for worse. "In fact, you should wear green to the SI Christmas party and I'll wear red. We'll complete each other."

"I didn't know I was invited to the Christmas party," Bruce bantered.

He, of course, had been expecting it might come up just as Tony had been invited to the store's Christmas party. They'd been seeing each other since November and it had been pretty wonderful so far. Maybe more wonderful than Bruce's cynical heart had ever let him believe a relationship could be.

"Well, we could just skip the party and have a little party for two instead," Tony replied with no small amount of promise in his voice before he leaned in and kissed him.

"Tony, I'm working," Bruce said, though he hadn't broken the kiss right away. "Shouldn't you be working too?" He teased. The man dropped in more times than was necessary; it was like he was still shadowing them even though he wasn't.

"Well you're not working for me so I have to find a work around," Tony said with a smirk.

"Ho, ho, ho," came a warm chuckle, interrupting them. Bruce moved a respectable distance away from Tony. "Oh no need for that," the hired Santa Claus said. "I love seeing happy couples."

"Well, you're definitely looking at one," Tony said with that charming smile of his and Bruce couldn't find it in himself to argue. He was happy as strange as it would have seemed to him the Christmas before.

"You might be surprised how many people ask for love for Christmas," the Santa said as he went over and sat down in the seat meant for him. "But too often they don't realize it's not as easy as just leaving them another person under their tree." He shook his head. "These things take time. And anything that takes time leads to a certain kind of doubt. And once they stop believing in magic and love it's harder to help them find the person they asked for. Not that they can't be happy with others. I'm a firm believer in love of all kinds after all," he said with a hearty 'ho ho ho' of a chuckle. "I only wish they didn't give up so easily. And some give up and never find anyone," he said in a sad tone that juxtaposed his previous mirth.

Bruce looked over at Tony with a raised eyebrow. One look told him that Tony was wondering just as much as he was if the guy had played Santa so long he'd just learned to get immediately into character regardless of who he was speaking with. Tony shrugged minutely and Bruce smiled at how easily they were able to communicate without actual words. Once they'd gotten over the misunderstanding in the beginning, Bruce realized just how in sync they were in spite of obvious ways they were opposite in temperament.

"Oh, I'm sure you two never asked Santa for love did you?" The Santa asked and Bruce looked back at him quickly, seeing the gleam in his eyes. Bruce furrowed his brow, but didn't respond. The day was about to begin anyway and he needed to track down his elves.

"I'm going to go find your elves, Santa," Bruce said.

"Good luck. They're ornery creatures," the man said with another signature laugh.

"Wow, that guy…" Tony said once they were out of the Santa's earshot.

"…takes his job very seriously," Bruce agreed. He then looked back over toward the area to look at the man, noticing one of the elves had arrived. "He didn't seem drunk to you did he?" You never could tell with these types.

"Not particularly," Tony answered. "Just a little, uh, confused," Tony continued. "Maybe he's a method actor?"

Bruce chuckled. "Maybe. You know he does remind me a little of Ben Kingsley." Tony laughed as well. "So, are you going to stalk me today or did you drop by just to say good morning?"

"Well, since you're not dressed like an elf, I guess I could go on to work," Tony said in exaggerated exasperation. "But hanging out here could be fun too. Especially with Santa Cukoolander over there." Tony then leaned in and whispered dramatically, "He sits on a throne of lies."

Bruce rolled his eyes and pushed him away. "Okay, Buddy. Why don't _you_ put on the elf costume?"

"If it works for you I might," Tony replied with a wink.

 

* * *

 

Bruce came back onto the floor with his coat over his arm and freshly changed, prepared to shoo out the remaining employees and turn out the lights for the evening. It was the night before Christmas Eve and he knew Tony was probably already waiting downstairs for him to as it was the night of the Stark Industries Christmas party, but work was work. Bruce watched as the few stragglers finally took their leave and wished them a merry Christmas since he'd cashed in his accrued vacation days for a long Christmas weekend.

"Merry Christmas, Dr. Banner."

Bruce startled and turned around to see the hired Santa. It was his last day on the job and honestly Bruce had expected he would have left a few hours prior.

"Uh, thank you. You as well," he said as politely as possible as he set down his coat on the service counter and went around to close out the registers for the night.

"Your Mr. Stark came up a little while ago, but you were in the back."

"Oh?" Bruce said curiously and looked down at his watch as he finished his task. He had been making use of the locker room as he hadn't expected Tony that soon. "Did he say anything?"

"He said he would be in the café next door. Something about needing some coffee to get through the party," the man said with a hearty chuckle.

Bruce snorted as well. "I might need some too after this crazy day," he admitted.

"He also left this with me to give to you when I saw you," the Santa said as he pulled out a thinly wrapped package. "Seemed eager for you to open it before you met up with him."

Bruce furrowed his brow and took the item from the other man. He opened it, curious, and found an envelope with his name on the front. Opening the envelope he found inside a letter that was clearly aged. Bruce unfolded the letter and scanned the words written there, by a young child's hand no doubt.

_Dear Santa,_

_On the very off chance you exist, I just want a real friend for Christmas. I want somebody I can talk to and he'll understand me right away. And when he talks, I'll understand him too. Jarvis is nice, but he's old. I want someone my age who I can laugh with and talk about science with and have fun with. He should be nice and patient because my parents never… I guess I get on people's nerves or something. He doesn't have to be rich like me. He just needs to be someone I want to be around and who wants to be around me and won't send me away. Maybe I'll even marry him one day if he's really, really nice. But at least let him be my friend._

_Sincerely,_

_Tony Stark_

Bruce finished reading the vulnerable words and palmed away a few tears as he immediately imagined Tony as a lonely boy with all the money in the world and no one to care for him the way he deserved. He gave a soft, bittersweet smile as he realized Tony was trying to tell him that somehow Bruce had become that person he'd once wished for. Bruce could only wish he'd been there sooner.

"Thank you for waiting to—" Bruce looked up and all around. The man was already gone, having snuck off without so much as a word or hardly a sound that Bruce had heard.

He shrugged and quickly put the letter back in the enveloped, put on his coat, finished closing up and hurried to meet Tony. As promised, he found the wealthier man standing in a corner of the café at a tall tabletop. He was drinking a coffee and Bruce spied the other on the tabletop beside him, likely for himself. He smiled at the gesture as he reached him.

Tony smiled and set down his drink before leaning in to give him a quick greeting kiss. "You are the most exquisite man I've ever met," Tony said seriously without any other segue way. "I've been standing here wondering how I got so lucky. So lucky you weren't already with someone else. Lucky you gave me a chance."

"Tony?" Bruce questioned softly, eyes narrowed.

Tony looked at him intently and pulled something out of his pocket and held it reverently between two hands. Bruce's eyes widened as he realized it was a letter also. "I promise, Bruce. I promise you I'll do anything in my power to never hurt you."

"What is that?" He asked, slightly dazed from Tony's words.

"The letter you gave me," Tony answered, bringing Bruce back to the moment.

"Letter? You gave me a letter," Bruce corrected as he held out the letter he had been given.

"I didn't," Tony said in confusion and they traded letters.

"Neither did I," Bruce said as he opened the letter Tony thought had come from him.

He gasped as his eyes met the words written by his own hand as a very young boy.

_Dear Santa,_

_I don't think you exist. Sorry. But just in case I'm wrong can you help me believe in love again? My mom loved me and I loved her and I know she would want me to believe, but I don't. What is the point in loving people if it only means you hurt in the end? My dad hurt my mom and he hurt me. And I loved my mom, but now I hurt because I don't have her. Maybe love is real, but I don't think I'll ever love anyone else again unless you help me._

_Sincerely,_

_Bruce Banner_

He looked up to see Tony just as surprised that he'd had a letter from his childhood.

"Tony," he said uncertainly, "I mailed this letter to Santa when I was a kid. How did you get this?"

"I got it from the crazy Santa when I got to your job a little early. The question is how did you get this letter?" He asked in disbelief as he flapped the letter in his hand for emphasis. "I mailed this the first year I was sent off to boarding school."

"The Santa," Bruce mumbled as his head spun. He met Tony's disbelieving gaze.

Suddenly there was a small knock on the café window beside them. They startled and turned their heads in sync to see said Santa outside. He gave them a wink and small nod before walking along.

Bruce met Tony's gaze again and the genius billionaire slowly smiled as if suddenly taken with it all. Bruce looked down at his letter and smiled as well. He might not know what had happened or if he wanted to believe in the very real possibility they'd been presented with.

He only knew as crazy as it seemed there could be no doubt Tony was the answer to his letter and he could see it written all over his face that he was the answer to Tony's.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still working hard on requests/prompts. I hope to get to as many as I possibly can. Some may be disappointingly short, but I will still do my best to try.


	6. And I Grow So Weary of the Sound of Screams (part of NBC au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony is the Pumpkin King, but Halloween just doesn't seem to have the same meaning anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [Jack's Lament](https://play.spotify.com/track/2z1SaJJSPpLDQJphaESqKC) from The Nightmare Before Christmas.
> 
> So I was almost possessed to write a full length Tony/Bruce Nightmare Before Christmas au, but ahahaha like I have time for _that_... Instead, there will be a few chapters that are inspired by a few of the songs specifically. They'll basically be excerpts of a greater narrative. So hopefully they'll make sense. 
> 
> Also I guess this is both a Halloween entry and me getting started on Christmas stuff again :)

Tony smiles and waves to the inhabitants of Halloween Town as they fill the square with screams and cheers and perfectly-ghoulish partying, another Hallow's Eve all wrapped up like a delightfully frightful mummy - although as Pumpkin King he has never particularly found mummies very frightening in comparison to some of the other harrowing horrors that call Halloween Town home. Tony presses through the throng, his metal bones creaking eerily as they ought with every step, until he reaches the edge of the square. There he turns to look back at his friends and neighbors, smile falling from his face. He shakes his head and then turns away with a sigh.

He follows the path until he finds the graveyard where he knows his dear friend Bruce hides, watching the events from afar but never joining as Tony wishes he would. He stops along the edge of the yard and waits for the unassuming rag doll man to realize its only him and come out from behind the large tomb he's ducked behind. Slowly Bruce emerges, his green skin glowing in the haunted moonlight. His dark yarn curls and favorite patchwork shirt of different shades of purple are as eye catching as always in contrast.

"Is Mad Thaddeus indisposed again?" Tony asks him with a smirk, speaking of the mad man who holds under lock and key those residents of Halloween Town he has had a hand in creating or whom he's demanded be entrusted to his care as he deems them too dangerous even for a town of goblins, zombies, ghosts, witches, vampires, and more.

The rag doll has been in his keep ever since a potion accident left him able to sometimes transform into a large and savage goblin without warning. It is a sight to behold as the stitching rips and his fabric stretches and all of him deforms into something so opposite of the kind, shy and extremely intelligent rag doll that he usually is and a stranger sight still to watch that form shrink back down again until he's left in pieces on the ground in need of restitching. Tony has always been intrigued by his friend's ability and finds his goblin form no more threatening than some other inhabitants - himself even when good and provoked; he _is_ the Pumpkin King after all. Tony is determined to find a way to free Bruce from Mad Thaddeus' imprisonment one of these days; then they will be able to spend more than a few stolen hours together when Bruce has once again put his captor to sleep in order to slip into town to join the free residents. Bruce belongs with him-- them always.

"Yes, but the nightshade is low. I was only able to slip a little bit this time into his tea. I don't think he'll stay that way for long." Bruce sighs and Tony wishes... for something. Perhaps something similar as the rag doll since Bruce's sigh matches his own. "But you know I can't keep away. Not on Halloween when everyone returns and the real festivities begin. You know..." He pauses and looks away. "I always love to hear the speeches you make," he confesses in a low voice.

Tony smiles and moves closer to his friend. "I will get you some more deadly nightshade," he promises and Bruce turns his gaze back on him. His thin, stitched lips move upward at the edges to form just the barest hint of a smile. But that small smile somehow reaches all the way to his eyes. "Although, I wish there was another way," he adds. "I always worry about what goes on in that asylum of Thaddeus' whenever he catches you. I don't like the look he gets in his eyes when he sees you." Tony growls and turns away. "In fact, it makes me think of severing his head for a very nice trophy and leaving his body for the--"

"Tony, please," Bruce interjects, his cloth hand soft against the iron of Tony's wrist where he grabs it. Tony looks down in surprise and then moves that gaze to Bruce. He seems to realize what he's done and is embarrassed, though for no reason that Tony can understand, as he pulls back and wrings his hands together instead. Tony turns back around to face him fully. "I believe there is a fine line between the terrible deeds we do to frighten people and the truly terrible deeds we are capable of." He means murder and malicious violence, of course. They may be monsters, but they are not villains. "I would hate to see you cross it."

Tony lets the anger ooze from him like pus from a festering wound and then bandages the wound up for now. Bruce wouldn't like him very much if he gave into his anger, even if Tony is sure Bruce is worth crossing certain lines for. He can wait. He can think of some other plan.

“Did you have a good time scaring?” Bruce interrupts those thoughts.  

Tony blinks and sees that Bruce has wandered over to one of the gravestones, the one he always wanders to. It belongs to some long gone soul named Rebecca whom Bruce feels some inexplicable affinity for. He has the whimsical notion she must have been a beautiful ghost who resided in Halloween Town for a hundred years, at least, while passing through from her previous life onto the next, and he’s quite certain her life before was a tragic one and often sighs and wishes her a better one now. Tony can’t help but be taken by Bruce’s theory and wish for that too. 

“It was like every other Halloween I suppose,” Tony answers at last. Bruce turns to him with a scrutinizing gaze. He sees through him of course. Tony decides to give voice to his internal conflict. “It has begun to feel… empty.” 

“Empty?” Bruce echoes. “But not a single creature can scare half as well as you…if the stories are to be believed.” Bruce has never had the pleasure of joining them on a trip to the human world for a night of terrorizing. Tony hates that almost just as much as he hates Mad Thaddeus.  

“I’m the best,” Tony boasts. “But for some reason it doesn’t delight me like it used to. It’s all very,” he shrugs, “tiresome. Perhaps I will pass on the responsibility of Pumpkin King to someone else.” 

“That’s absurd,” Bruce argues, looking at him strangely. “You’re such a splendid King.” Tony is surprised by the straightforward compliment. “Maybe you just need a rest or fresh perspective.” 

“That…could be,” Tony agrees in a tentative fashion. Bruce usually has reasonable advice. “But…” Tony isn’t sure though. Something still feels missing. He feels weary and longing for something he can’t name. He looks at his friend as the rag doll picks some of the weeds that grow around the tombs for his potions. “But, Bruce, do you ever just… _want?_ ” 

Bruce pauses in his actions, looking stiffer than he usually does in his cloth body. He plucks another weed and then slowly stands and looks at Tony with searching eyes. After a moment he opens his mouth just enough for Tony to know that there's a hesitant response on the tip of his tongue.  

Suddenly, there's a foul cry on the wind and not the kind that sends pleasant goose pimples down the spine, rather the kind that makes Bruce look off in the distance with genuine fear in his eyes. Tony quickly grabs his hand and pulls him back behind the large stone and they wait there until Mad Thaddeus passes by in a fury, looking for his escapee. 

"Go," Tony urges him, looking out to make sure the troll doesn't double back. Bruce runs as quickly as he can and Tony spares him a glance to make certain he's off safely before moving completely from the hiding space. He sighs when he's out of sight and the empty feeling returns tenfold. "If only I understood why," he laments and wanders into the forest to ponder the situation for a bit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have a Christmas song suggestion? [Ask](http://sciencedads.tumblr.com/ask) or comment with the song/artist and I'll see what I can do. Literally, any artist is welcome without judgment on my part. Don't believe me? I even have tweenybopper artists on my iPod and Spotify Christmas playlist. I have no shame when it comes to this time of year. I am the Darcy Lewis of Christmas music.


	7. I Just Want You For My Own

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bruce falls in love with the voice inside his head that keeps insisting he's real. (a paranormal romance au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [All I Want For Christmas Is You](https://open.spotify.com/track/1QaTg1bMMSSqG4WBC8PSZ3) in Minor Key by Chase Holfelder (which is a bit of an unsettling/dissonant take on the the song). Suggested by [Kairi-ou](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kairi-ou/pseuds/Kairi-ou)...last year oop. But I finally was inspired by the mood of the song!
> 
> Yeah, so this isn't good when compared to the epic cover of the song that was suggested, but I tried (there's so much I would have love to have done to flesh it out more, but time and all that). And since my actual Just Like Heaven inspired AU will probably never get finished, this sort of doubles as that. Also a head's up (thanks featheredschist) that this is a bit of a medical/psychological thriller so it contains aspects of that (e.g. has scenes in an asylum and in a hospital) should you not be into that/okay with that.

"I used to think I wasn't really crazy," Bruce says as he stares out the window of his room at the asylum. The snow is falling down hard now. Looks like it'll be a white Christmas after all if it holds. He doesn't hate freshly fallen snow, but it leaves a bitter feeling in his stomach. It's too stark against the gray sky, too pure. All pure things end up sullied. Pure things don't last. "When I first came here I thought they'd realize it after a couple of days."

"You're still not crazy," Tony tells him. "Now could you get away from there and close the curtain?"

Bruce glances at the other teen for a moment. "Why do you hate the snow so much anyhow?"

Tony's eyes dilate and his body goes rigid. He stands there for a long moment like he's faced with some distant memory; Bruce knows the look since it happens to him when he thinks about... the thing he's been told by the doctors not to think about. Then it happens.

It starts as a low, eerie sound and then gradually grows into a blood curdling howl. Bruce moves his hands to his ears to shut out the sound. "Stop!" But he doesn't and things in the room start to shake from the frequency. "Okay! I'm shutting it! Look, I'm _shutting it_."

He quickly closes the curtains and then moves his hands back to his ears and moves closer to the wailing teen, hoping to get him to see he can stop. He only does when his bedroom door flies open. Bruce spins around quickly, hands falling, as several nurses rush in.

"Robert, are you okay?" One of them asks. Bruce has given up trying to get them to call him Bruce. They say it's not right for him to reject his given name, that it only compounds his identity problem. They study him and the room. "What was going on in here? What were you doing?"

He sees one of the nurses leave and he knows she'll return with the sedatives. They'll probably even insist on straps for his own safety.

"I wasn't—" He starts, but then looks at Tony.

Wasn't he though? Nobody else can see the devastatingly attractive boy beside him. Tony's as imaginary as the monster that had once lived in his head. So, it couldn't have been Tony howling. It had to be him. He hadn't believed he was crazy, but Tony isn't real and nothing makes him go away.

He must be crazy after all.

**

Tony leaves for a while after that, but finds him later that night. He wishes he wouldn’t because they'd restrained his arms as he suspected they would and it's embarrassing. Tony always looks at them with a pained expression wishing he could remove them, but he can't. Of course he can't.

"I'm sorry," Tony says quietly as Bruce MacGyvers out of the straps. He's learned how to do a lot of things in his life time and definitely over the course of the fifteen months he's been there. Tony's been with him for fourteen of those months. He'll never forget the initial hopeful feeling of a silver lining, having found someone who could… well, Tony had once called it speaking English and that was a good way of describing it. It had been a selfish notion, and foolish to think it could be true. "I shouldn't have created a scene. This is my fault." He scowls at the straps and touches his fingers to the top of Bruce's arm.

Bruce stops his maneuvering for a second to shiver. Tony doesn't touch him often, because Bruce told him not to, but when he does it's like a hot-cold sensation that causes his hair to stand on in. It also makes Bruce want Tony wrap to his arms around him and give him more of that sensation, which is why Bruce won't let Tony touch him very often. His fantasies are becoming more perverse and he's afraid if he doesn't keep himself in check he'll lose what's left of his sanity to the delusion.

Bruce finishes outsmarting the restraints. He immediately rubs at his wrists as he sits up and rolls his legs over the side of the bed to dangle. "You didn't create a scene," Bruce finally responds.

"Then what would you call it?" Tony asks with a scoff.

Bruce sighs. "No, Tony, _you_ didn't create a scene, but _I did_."

Tony lets out a sharp laugh. "That's hilarious," he says and sits beside him. "Just because that's what they tell you doesn't make it true. I'm pretty sure they're trying to, what's that term? Gaslight? I think that's it. They're just trying to gaslight you."

Bruce frowns. He wants to believe that so badly. He wants to believe Tony is real and solid and sitting right beside him. He wants to pull Tony back with him onto the bed and find out once and for all just how real he is, how real Tony claims to be, but he's not. And he's tired, so tired of pretending.

"Tony, you're not real."

"Not this again," Tony protests.

"You're not, okay? I'm sorry. I want you to be. God, how I want you to be."

"You don't have to want, Bruce. I'm real. I know I am. My name is Tony. I'm 19 years old. My birthday was in May."

"No, no, Tony, no," Bruce hisses and stands to his feet. He starts pacing. "Those are just, they're just facts that I've made up about you." Bruce turns and faces him and sees Tony's hurt expression, but he can't stop it from being the truth. "Don't you get it? I made you up in my head because I was lonely. I was scared. So to punish myself more I just had to go and create the most perfect being I could imagine. Someone smart and older and gorgeous." Bruce groans and runs a hand through his hair. "But I can't take it anymore. You're driving me crazy."

"Wait," Tony stands to his feet. "Let me get this straight… Are you saying you're attracted to me?" He looks confused and hopeful and Bruce knows he shouldn't answer, but maybe he just needs to be honest with himself, honest with the figment of his imagination.

"Yes," he answers. "Of course I am. You're basically everything I can never really have. A forbidden dream."

"But, Bruce! I'm real! Get it through your head! I'm real and I don't have to be forbidden," Tony urges, persistent and eager. "I've wanted you since we met, Bruce. You're not the only one—"

"Stop! Just stop!" Bruce yells at him, mind racing with thoughts and heart breaking from want. "You don't know what it means to want. God, Tony, you only say that because you're in my head! _I want you to say that_. I want so fucking much for you to be real and for you to want me desperately." Suddenly Tony grabs at his head and looks pained, but Bruce doesn't stop. "I can't take it anymore. It's driving me mad. Even when you're not here you're all I think about. I don't even care if I rot here anymore, it wouldn't matter if only you were just real!"

"Bruce," Tony gasps his name and falters back to sit on the bed, still holding his head. "Bruce, something is wrong."

"Yes, something is wrong," Bruce agrees, defeated. "Something is wrong and it's with me. I'm in love with the voice in my head." Tony's eyes shut tight and he looks miserable and broken, but maybe that makes sense because it's how Bruce feels. He doesn't want to have to say any of this, but he must. " _Please_ , just go away. Leave me alone. I love you, Tony, but I can't! I can't keep doing this to myself."

Tony's eyes open wide and for fleeting second he's never looked more real nor more like a ghost. "Accident," he gasps. Then with hysteria he cheers, "Bruce, I'm real! _I'm real_!" He stands and moves into the space between them until there's none left. His hand comes up to Bruce's cheek and he shivers from the phantom sensation. "I'm real, Bruce and I promise I'll prove it to you somehow." Bruce could drown in those chocolate eyes he's dreamed up. "I love you," Tony whispers and then he disappears.

Tony disappears leaving Bruce in the cold and terrifying solace. He isn't alone for long. One of the nurses opens the door and finds him standing frozen, shaking and crying.

**

Bruce looks around uncertainly as the nurse brings him into one of the visiting rooms. It's the new nurse. The one that's been observing him. He knows she has been. Tony thinks he's just being paranoid.

No. That's not true. Tony isn't around anymore and he's probably not coming back. But he would have thought he was being paranoid. Bruce is sure of that.

Bruce takes a seat and a man he's never seen before, a man in a crisp black suit, comes around to sit in a chair a few feet away directly in front of him. He looks like one of the men who had investigated his mother's murder.

"Hello, Mr. Banner," the man says. "My name is Agent Phil Coulson."

"Agent?" Bruce glances around again. "Are you here about…" He swallows hard and looks down. "Are you here about her? I'm sorry I didn't tell. I'm sorry."

"I'm not here about that," he answers in a calm voice. "And I'm sorry for your loss. That she was taken away from you."

"Then why are you here?" Bruce looks up at him sharply. "People don't visit me." Not even his Aunt Susan visits as frequently as she'd tried in the beginning and his other family live too far away.

"I know that," the man says with a nod. "In fact, we've been keeping an eye on you." Bruce glances at the nurse. "Yes, she's an agent too."

"I don't understand," Bruce says.

"No," Agent Coulson gives a small frown, "I suppose you wouldn't. Not the way they keep you locked away here. Let me start by giving you a rundown of what I know, Mr. Banner. It might help you to trust me if I'm forthcoming."

"It's not hard to guess," Bruce says bitterly. "You know about my mother's murder already. You probably know how I was a coward and lied for my dad."

"You were a child manipulated by an abusive man during a period when you were suffering, no doubt, from post-traumatic stress." Bruce blinks in response to the explanation. "As much as your father deserved to go to prison right then and there, it isn't your fault. You weren't a coward by choice." Bruce looks away again and tries not to think about Tony. Tony had once said something very similar. "I also know why you're here of course."

Bruce looks back. "Because I'm crazy."

"No," Agent Coulson says with conviction and a shake of his head. Both greatly surprise him. "No, I don't think you are. Based on our research of the events that led to you being institutionalized and, well, the notes Agent Romanoff has been gathering, you probably don't belong here." Bruce's eyes widened. "You belong out in the world getting the treatment you need to handle it and contribute to it. You're a very, very smart young man. You're also a very tortured one."

"I tried to kill people," Bruce counters. "That makes me a sociopath. Like my father. I inherited his crazy."

"That's just what they've told you. It doesn't necessarily make it true." Agent Coulson draws his lips into a thin line. "In fact, there were other options on the table."

"Yeah, prison."

"No, the military." Bruce furrows his brow. "You were going to be offered a full scholarship to any university of your choosing in exchange for working with the military using that genius of yours to build bombs for them instead."

"What? You're kidding? A full scholarship for… almost killing people?" Bruce stares at him long and hard for a moment before huffing. "I'm not _that_ crazy. I don't believe you."

"You don't have to believe me." Agent Coulson seems unfazed by his doubt. "I have copies of the original documents that would have had your case dismissed. Your Aunt Drake, however, felt that it might only compound the problem if you didn't get help first. She feared your trauma had gone untreated for too long and that it would be irresponsible of her to ship you off to fend for yourself at a college. The judge agreed. You were tested for possible treatments, only—"

"Only they realized I'm crazy and here I am," Bruce fills in the blanks. "You know, you're not a very good Agent."

He snorts. "And you're remarkably keen for someone who insists he belongs in an institution such as this." Then he sighs. "You failed a test at another vulnerable and traumatic time of your life. Most in your position would. We've read the letter you received from your father."

Bruce goes tense. His eyes shut tight. He can still see the horrible words scrawled on the paper, hateful words in his dad's handwriting. His dad had spared no vitriol. He'd even somehow known… Tony's face bleeds into his memory of the letter, the words fading until all he sees is his bright eyes and beautifully reassuring smile. Bruce opens his eyes again to see the Agent studying him.

"I don't think you belong here, Mr. Banner," he repeats. "And I think I could persuade your aunt and the doctors to consider your release."

"I… I…" Bruce licks his suddenly very dry lips. "I still don't understand why you wanted to watch me in the first place. I'm just a nobody."

"You're right," Agent Coulson says easily enough. "We had no reason to check on you until recently. Only now it turns out you may be a clue to another case we're working on." Bruce doesn't understand. "Five years ago this estate was left in a will to be used as saw fit for non-profit by those at the Maria Stark Foundation. In this way it was decided to be donated to a non-profit mental health organization for youth that had been looking for a new permanent facility."

"Okay, but what does that have to do with me?"

"This home belonged to the Stark family. Have you heard of them?"

"Uh…" Bruce scrunches his face as he tries to think about a life before the one he had here, beyond the walls of this place. "Howard Stark was a famous scientist, right? That's the only Stark I can think of."

"This was his home. Him, his wife," Agent Coulson pulls out a photo and holds it up for him to see, "and his son."

"Oh my god." Bruce snatches the picture and looks at it closer, heart beating fast in his chest. "Tony?"

He barely whispers it, but Agent Coulson hears him and says, "Yes, Tony Stark." Bruce glances up at the agent in confusion. "So I take it you knew him. Is that why you've told previous nurses you could see him?"

"I… How… I don't understand. Who is this really?" Bruce becomes suspicious, glancing back and forth between the two.

Agent Coulson reaches for the photo, but Bruce keeps it in hand to study again. He thought he'd never see Tony's face again. He's not sure how long it's been. It had been a couple of days before his birthday and tomorrow is Christmas Eve so just about a week he realizes, but it's felt much longer.

Agent Coulson drops his hand and says, "I've told you. His name is Tony Stark. This was his home until five years ago. Until there was an accident—"

Bruce looks up quickly from the picture. "Accident?" Tony's voice echoes in his ears and a chill goes through him.

"Yes," Agent Coulson says. "Almost exactly five years ago there was a car accident. Officially, it was the winter weather." Bruce's eyes widen. "But we're fairly certain there were outside forces at work. An autopsy of the driver's body indicated a foreign substance in his system at the time of losing control of the car."

Bruce doesn't care about the details. His mind is racing with thoughts of Tony. With thoughts of snow. With the echo of haunting howls. Ghostly howls? Oh god, was… was it possible?

"And the Starks?" Bruce swallows hard. He already knows the answer since their house has been converted to an asylum and it makes him tremble.

"It was a great tragedy," Coulson says solemnly.

Something in Bruce breaks as he looks down at Tony's picture again. Tony's gone, truly gone. He's gone in a way that seems so much crueler. He'd been real – not just in his head, but now Bruce has sent him away. He'd fallen in love with a ghost. As hopelessly impossible as that seemed at least Tony had been real. At least he could have gone on having him in a way. Now he's gone and—

"Wait," Bruce chokes out, his tears halting. "Say that again?" Agent Coulson had been discussing the tragedy and it had been nothing more than a buzz in Bruce's ears until the end.

"Tony has been in a coma every since the accident," he repeats.

Bruce chokes again, hope and dread warring in his chest. "You mean… You mean he's alive?"

"Yes, Mr. Banner."

"You have to let me see him again!" Bruce demands, forgetting himself.

"Again?" Agent Coulson raises an eyebrow. "So you do know him?"

"I, um…" Bruce isn't sure how to answer. His head is spinning too fast even for his IQ to work out a solution. How does he tell the agent that he's known Tony for the past fourteen months? How does he tell the agent that what he'd been so sure was a figment of his imagination, an invisible friend, has really been Tony's ghost haunting him all along? How could the agent still deem him not crazy? Bruce furrows his brow and reconsiders whether or not he'd even been seeing Tony's ghost. Tony can't be a ghost if he's still alive somewhere, can he? "I didn't, no." He shakes his head.

"Huh. So you're saying it's merely a coincidence that about a week ago Tony Stark regained enough consciousness to mutter a single name that led us here?"

Bruce's breath hitches in his throat. "My name?" He stares at the picture again with so much emotion he doesn't know where to begin. The other boy is real and he's alive and he's struggling to come back... _and he's calling for him_.

"Now how about we try again and this time, Mr. Banner, please tell us the truth."

**

Bruce tries to keep his eyes from darting here and there inappropriately, but it's a little difficult. He hasn't been inside another building for over a year. The fact that it's a state-of-the-art hospital only makes it all the more distracting. He follows Agent Coulson and the doctor quietly and feels Agent Romanoff's eyes on him as she follows behind.

"Any change?" Agent Coulson asks when they come to a stop.

The doctor shakes his head. "No. So far it seems to have been an anomaly. There has been no sustained conscious brain activity."

The agent sighs in response and then gives a small nod before glancing at Bruce. Then he turns to face him completely. "Alright, we're going to give you a little time alone with Mr. Stark," he explains. That surprises Bruce. "I understand this may be a little bit of a shocking reunion for you," and that's an understatement, Bruce thinks, "so I'm sure you would like a little privacy to sort through that. Of course, Romanoff will be right outside the door if you need anything."

In case she needs to intervene, Bruce realizes, but doesn't say. Only, "Of course. Um, thanks. I guess."

The doctor gives him a kind smile and then gestures to the door of a nearby room. Bruce swallows down his nervousness and nods his understanding before venturing into the solely occupied room. The steady beep of the EKG machine and the soft sound of Christmas music playing from a radio in the corner greets him. He looks at everything except for the bed in the middle of the room.

There's a small lounge for visitors, but it looks mostly unused. There are no flowers, or balloons, or anything else one might expect in a hospital room, but then Bruce remembers that Tony has been here for five years. Any such sentiment would have long ago been abandoned. There are two cards on the table in the small lounge area, however, and they look a little faded and dusty. Bruce stalls by wiping the dust from both and looking them over. One is from an Obadiah and the other a Peggy.

Bruce sets them down and finally makes his way toward Tony's bedside. His heart is in his throat and the pulse of it in his ears. He's not sure he actually believes he'll find Tony lying there when he reaches it. Not his Tony anyhow, no matter what Agent Coulson has told him. His Tony may still very well be a figment of his imagination. Maybe he'd seen a picture of the affluential Starks, including Tony, and doesn't recall it – from what Agent Coulson had said Tony had been a relative genius, well on his way to attending MIT at an early age had the accident not happened first. Maybe he'd concocted a myth based on that and maybe Agent Coulson had gotten wind of his mad ramblings about his hallucinations of Tony and was just manipulating him now to—

Bruce gasps when he reaches the bed and sees Tony's prone body. His _very real_ prone body. Everything inside Bruce breaks and he doesn't care how or why or if it's all a trick. Tony is real and he's close enough to touch.

"Hi, Tony," he says in a hoarse whisper, his voice strangled with emotion. "I've missed you." His voice cracks completely and he hangs his head, shakes it. "I didn't mean it when I told you to leave. I was just... scared." Then he looks back again and tries for humor, knowing Tony would appreciate it. "You can wake up and say I told you so now." He gives a rueful chuckle. "You're real. I see that now. I'm sorry I didn't believe you."

Bruce takes a few deep breaths and glances around the room again. The EKG continues its slow and steady rhythm. The Christmas music still plays in the background. Bruce can't handle any of it.

"I'm here, Tony," he says desperately. "I'm here, okay? And I won't leave. I won't let them take me back because you're not there anymore."

He's not here either though. He is, but he isn't.  Tony might as well still be a figment of his imagination. He might as well still be a ghost.

Bruce misses Tony's bright smile and dancing eyes and the sensation of when he touched him without touching him. He misses Tony.

"Come back to me," he begs, choking on a sob that forces its way to his throat before he even has a chance to fight it. His body caves under the weight of what he wants. "I want you to come back to me. Please, _please_. I love you, remember? I love you, Tony."

He must sound hysterical because suddenly there's noise behind him, the doctor suggesting they take him away now, but he doesn't want to go. _He can'_ t. He can't leave Tony no matter what state he's in. He won't lose him again.

"No, no!" He turns on them. "Don't make me leave. I need to be here. I need—"

Behind him the EKG monitor shrieks, freezing Bruce's own heart. He spins around as the doctor races around to it. The line on the monitor is flat and the doctor is calling for a nurse while he prepares to revive him.

"No!" Bruce shouts. "No, Tony, no!"

"Get him out of here!"

Both agents start to pull Bruce back from the chaotic scene. He goes to struggle away from them when suddenly the shrieking stops and returns to steady pulse. The doctor pauses mid-preparation of the defibrillator and looks at the monitor. The room is hushed save for the sound of Tony's pulse. Then that pulse grows stronger and a little quicker. The doctor looks ready to move into action should it spike only to flat-line again. Then the impossible happens.

Tony gasps and his eyes fly open. Bruce gasps too and his eyes go wide in complete shock. For a moment, it feels like time stops. He can't see anything save for Tony. The only sound that filters through is the muffled sound of Christmas music still playing in the background like some strange soundtrack.

Then with a single whispered, "Bruce?" time starts again and Bruce jerks away from Agent Coulson's hand on his shoulder to hurry over to Tony's bedside.

Tony looks up at him, slowly blinking, and coughing in the back of his throat slightly. Then his dazed expression changes to one of pure relief, tears glistening like stars in his dark eyes. "You're real," he says like he can barely believe it, like he's just as surprised by that as Bruce had been about him. "You're real," he repeats, voice cracking from lack of use.

"I'm real," Bruce says with a nod, his own tears spilling down his cheeks and he takes the hand that Tony reaches out toward his face to wipe them away, holding it there. "And so are you." Tony smiles a weak smile no less exuberant than any of the other dazzling ones Bruce is now certain had been real. Bruce returns it and sighs in relief. "You always were."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a whole lot of suggestions from last year and already this year and I feel like Christmas is in two days the way time is flying. So you can continue to make suggestions, but I can't make any guarantees (which I know everyone already understood, but I just thought I'd give a head's up). I'm trying to work on some of the more outstanding ones that I've been inspired with ideas for first.


	8. I Wish I Had a River

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Singer Tony Stark just wants his muse back. (musician au)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [River](https://youtu.be/3KPITow4_-0) by Robert Downey Jr. This was, understandably, requested twice. Last year by [leobutler](http://archiveofourown.org/users/leobutler/pseuds/leobutler) and this year by [DaniMarik](http://archiveofourown.org/users/DaniMarik/pseuds/DaniMarik).

"So, Tony how does it feel knowing your last album has already been certified platinum? I mean, is that some kind of record?" 

"I don’t think it's a record," Tony answers with a smile and shake of his head at the late night talk host. "But that's fine. It's not about that. It's about the music. And all of the other souls out there that connected with the message of the album." 

"What a brutal message it was too." Tony tries not to wince too visibly. "The album, as I'm sure our audience is aware—because who here hasn't listened to it on repeat since release, right?" The host goads and the audience cheers in response. Tony smiles at the audience and waves a thanks, even bows a little playfully while still seated. "The album was all about a break up, but while it was full of a lot of raw emotions it didn't feel like your quintessential 'I hate you' break up album. Can you explain that at all to us?" 

Tony considers the question. He knows that somewhere Bruce probably already knows the truth. He'd prefaced the album with a vague dedication to him after all. So unless Bruce hasn't even bothered to pay any attention to him whatsoever, he has to know.  

"Easy enough," Tony finally concedes to answering. "It's not really about being angry. It's about being hurt, confused, despondent. It's about being desperate to find a way to make it work or bring the other person back. It's about being hopelessly in love. The kind of love that transcends all of the messy feelings and loneliness that follow the break up." 

"So it's about still being in love," the host sums it up. "You've gone on record as saying the album was inspired by a break-up you've gone through." 

"I have, yes," Tony replies. 

"So are you saying you're still in love with someone, or is the metaphorical 'still in love with love' deal?" 

"Okay, well, universally speaking I think it makes sense to let it stand as a metaphorical deal. Since I'm sure a lot of people will relate to it in that way. But personally?" Tony pauses and then rubs at his chest before he has a chance to realize what he's doing. "You know, having felt what I felt, what I still feel, I'm not sure I could really be in love with love. Love is hard and painful. Sure it's wonderful too, but I think what I found out is it's more dangerous than poison. Which is probably why I tried to evade it for years. So, I'm not in love with what love does to me. But I'm in love with what that person did to me. And I'll always be in love with that to some extent I think." 

Whether genuinely or because prompted, the audience applauds over that sentiment and Tony gives a thin smile and nod. He's not sure he can do this much longer. It all feels empty. He's thought about speaking with Amanda, his record producer about his contract options. He's rich enough already as Howard Stark's son so he could probably buy it out. And he's smart enough that all he'd have to do is sell a patent or two even without dipping into any of his money earned from being top shareholder of Stark Industries.   

"Most fans have speculated on whether it was inspired by your high-profile on-and-off-again romance with your publicist Pepper Potts," the host cuts through his thoughts, "or your rumored and controversial relationship that reportedly ended about this time last year with humanitarian and activist Dr. Banner."  

"He's also a brilliant nuclear physicist," Tony clips with a sharp smile. "Let's not undermine his genius just because he's chosen a different method of making our world better, regardless of opposition. As for controversial, I never understood the controversy." 

"Well, it almost sounds to me like that answers the question." 

Tony's smile sharpens just a little more even as he fakes a laugh. "That's a reasonable conjecture, but I'll say this. The person it was inspired by is the only one I care who knows the truth. And I'm sure if they were to just listen to even the first song, they'd know without a doubt that it's about them." 

"Do you think that's a good thing or a bad thing? Is there any guilt being inflicted there regarding your misery?"  

"I think anyone who’s listened to, say, tracks 2 or 8 knows precisely how I feel about the guilt thing." 

"You seem to blame yourself for the fallout." 

"I do," Tony confirms, Bruce's words from their fight echoing in his mind. "I've always had a reputation of being a little hard to handle." 

"That might be putting it generously there, Tony." 

Tony gives a rueful laugh at himself. "Yeah, yeah. True. But sometimes a person is worth trying harder for. And I failed at that. I tried, but at the end of the day I made terrible decisions that anyone would be hurt by. I made it all about me and my needs." He squirms in his seat a little and fiddles with the button of his suit jacket. "That's not to say I cheated. That rumor is entirely false. I know people have been trying to pin me down for years as unable to stay faithful to one person at a time. But whatever. I didn't cheat in that sense." He rolls his lips and weighs his head from side to side. "But how many of us cheat on the people we care about by thinking of ourselves first or, you know, saying they're the most important thing in our lives only..." He can see Bruce's hurt expression in his mind's eye. "Only to turn around and act otherwise when something else important comes along." 

"Very, very true," the host says with a nod. "I think we can all relate to that sort of guilt. And it also sounds a lot like the theme of your holiday cover that's blowing up the charts." 

"That's very astute of you," Tony teases. "But yes, that's why I chose this song for the holiday season. It's always been a favorite of mine, but it's never really resonated as much as it does now. It feels like an extension of my personal album."  

"We can tell," the host says. "You've really breathed new vulnerability into the song." The audience applauds in agreement. "It's no wonder everyone in the country and beyond is in love with it right now. And you too, I'd wager." Tony just gives one of his charismatic, albeit all acting, smiles at the camera. "And before you perform it here for our audience, you'll also be performing it later this week. Tell us a little bit about that." 

"Glad to," Tony replies, straightening his posture a little and smiling more genuinely. "This weekend my father's company Stark Industries and my record label are banding together to host a holiday charity drive in Central Park. I'm just one of many acts that will be out there to offer some entertainment, or for some people incentive, to come give what they can. We've created this really neat admission policy exclusive to this event where anyone can get in to the event for a single canned good. But anyone who brings a more expensive donation, new winter apparel, home goods, toys, that sort of thing, will get access to an exclusive meet-and-greet event with the act of their choice. But of course it's not about the meet-and-greet. It's about coming together and helping those who need us. Something I'd urge everyone to try and do, not only this time of year when emotions and goodwill are high, but throughout the year. For many, the need doesn't stop after December 25th." 

** 

Bruce holds a vinyl copy of Tony's last album in his hands as he listens to the man give his interview. Tony might not be placing all the blame on him, but he still feels guilty. Guilty and foolish.  

He'd gone out and bought a copy of Tony's album even if he still can't bring himself to listen to it, should it be about him...or maybe should he realize it's _not_ about him. He watches him in interviews when he's got the ability to. He still aches when he sees a picture of Tony on a magazine. He yearns for his touch again. He tosses and turns at night wondering if somewhere Tony is touching someone else.  

He's so damn foolish. It hadn't just been Tony's fault, but by time he'd figured it out it was too late. It was too late to just go groveling back and part of him worried it would just be inevitable for them to fall apart again. He wanted, still wants, Tony so much that there's no way it won't go horribly wrong again; that's always been his luck.  

And it's not like Tony doesn't have a point about them both saying things that maybe they didn't have the capacity to prove. After all, neither one of them had been willing to budge, not just Tony. Tony had made his choice and Bruce wasn't willing to change his own trajectory in tandem. Bruce has spent long, lonely, empty months regretting putting his own selfishness and unease over what he felt for Tony. 

Sure, Tony hadn't made it easy. He'd called Bruce's insecurities right, but still it had hurt to hear Tony accuse him of having had his bags packed for Timbuktu before they'd even finished their first date. And what had he done?  

"Maybe I just knew the odds going in with someone like you," he'd spat vitriol right back and then done what he's always done best, what Tony had assumed he would do. He ran.  

This was the one time running hadn't worked. It doesn't matter how much time and devotion he gives to his humanitarian efforts, he still comes home at night – wherever home might be at the moment – and thinks about Tony. He still comes home to silence. Tony had been a whirlwind that filled his silence so perfectly. They were both smart men having chosen to stray from the scientific world, but they would share that interest just the two of them in their own intimate way. Tony would write him a million songs from the silly to the sensual and everything in between, filling his life with music that had never really been there before. Tony would listen to him talk about his desire to make a difference in the world, would hold him when some of the reasons why he wanted to be gentler than some who'd come before reared their heads, would do what he could to support his efforts... 

Still is, Bruce realizes as Tony talks about the charity in the park. Because Tony cares too. And Bruce still isn't sure how he'd let himself get so angry in the moment to forget just how many ideas and efforts Tony contributed, had contributed even before they'd met. He hadn't just done it for his sake.  

Damn it all, he's so foolish. And he's still in love. Just like Tony claims to be. Bruce glances down at the vinyl in his hand. But is Tony in love with him?  

"Now here to perform the holiday classic River," the host announces, cutting through all of his thoughts, "let's give it up for Tony Stark." 

The lights dim on the stage and the live band begins to play along with Tony at the piano. Bruce almost reaches for the remote. He can listen to Tony talk, but he hasn't been able to listen to him sing. Not when all he can hear is Tony murmuring low one night about how it had felt like he'd just been making a bunch of noise before meeting him and that Bruce had finally given him his voice. Bruce is terrified that Tony won't sound the same anymore. 

But Bruce is frozen in place as Tony starts before he can mute the television or turn it off. His voice is just like he remembers and it seizes his whole being. Tears begin to well in his eyes and every hair stands on end. 

" _Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on. But it don't snow here. It stays pretty green. Gonna make a lot of money. Then I'm going to quit this crazy scene._ " 

Bruce catches his breath, remembering Tony's promise, the one that had led to their eventual fight. "I promise you, I'll quit this all if that's what it takes. It doesn't mean anything." Hope hammers in his heart as the song goes on. 

" _Oh, I wish I had a river I could skate away on. I made my baby cry._ " Tony looks away from the camera and down at the piano keys as he starts to play an interlude of beautiful music before the next verse. Bruce is immediately transported back to warm nights that started with him sat beside his boyfriend while he played for him. " _He tried hard to help me. You know, he put me at ease. Loved me so naughty, made me weak in the knees._ " 

Bruce's eyes widen, brows flying upward as his heart skips a beat. He sees the very minute shift in Tony's expression that says he knows what he's just done. Bruce swallows hard, his heart hammering again and he looks down at the record in his hands.  

He has another choice to make.  

** 

"Thank you for coming," Tony says after a photo with another fan. "Happy holidays." He starts to say hello to the next person in line when Pepper interrupts him. "I need to take this," Tony jokes, holding up a finger. "I'll be with you in a moment. Until then, mingle amongst yourselves. Make new friends. Or meet your new lover," he encourages playfully before turning to look at his publicist. "What's up?" 

Pepper's lips draw up into a tart line. "It's not good. TMZ is threatening to release undeniable proof that the mystery man you were rumored to be with was Dr. Banner. The label is refusing to pay the hush fee unless you're willing to break your silence on the flub and corroborate the story that you were paying homage to Joni Mitchell's original lyrics and making a statement for equality. They also want you to agree to the world tour you keep dodging."  

"So, essentially put up and shut up," he grumbles. "They want me to pretend they're for equality while this whole time they've been keeping me from having just that publicly because of an image. And _then_ they want to keep me distracted with another damn tour."  

"Essentially," Pepper says with a nod. "You know how this works by now, Tony."  

"Yeah," he nods, "I do." There are some mumblings behind him, but he doesn't really care if it's because he's making a scene. "And it's not working. I'm done playing this game. I took the bait last time and I've regretted it every day since. The music isn't worth what I lost, Pep. What's the point anyhow if the world can't even know who I'm singing about?" 

"I thought it was a myth that musicians actually sing about personal experiences." 

Tony spins around quickly at the achingly familiar voice and a sentiment he himself had shared with the other man. Standing only a few feet in front of him, looking just as gorgeous as he remembers from head to toe, is Bruce. Behind him the other fans have let him through and many are snapping photos or perhaps recording. Tony couldn't care less.  

"And you're not even technically a musician until you have a muse," Tony replies, echoing words from the past. "I had one." 

Bruce smiles, small but breathtaking and glances down. Tony tracks the movement and realizes then that Bruce is holding a vinyl copy of his album. "So I've heard," Bruce says in a wry tone and then glances back up. "Are you in the market for a new one?"  

Tony's eyes widen when he understands the question. "I think I just might be," he says and the space closes between them as the bubble of tension and chemistry bursts and they surge forward into each other.  

"I'm sorry," they say almost in sync when they pull apart from their crushing kiss, only to press their lips together in acceptance of those apologies a few seconds later.  

Pepper clears her throat. "Um, guys," she interrupts. They break apart and look at her. She gestures towards all of their audience.  

"Oh, hey!" Tony cheers. "Great idea." He looks at Bruce. "If we do this again, I'm going to do it right. The label and my contract be damned." 

"Tony, I understand that music is important to you… I shouldn't have pushed—"  

"Yes, you should have," Tony disagrees. "I let you down." 

"I did a pretty good job of demanding more than I was willing to give myself," Bruce counters. 

"Maybe, but you can have it all this time if you want it," Tony promises. "Because all I want is you to give me another chance." 

"How about we give each other another chance, Tony," Bruce says.  

Tony smiles. "I like the sound of that. But like I said, I want to do this right." He pulls his phone from his pocket and looks at Bruce. "Are you okay with this?" 

He watches Bruce think about it. He knows that as much as Bruce had been hurt by how the label had tried to keep them quiet before, Bruce had only been hurt by the denial rather than keeping it on the down low in the first place as a man who is okay with privacy.  

"You know, I think I am." 

Tony smiles wider and then holds out the phone to take a selfie of them kissing, so there can be no doubt. There's some applause from his fans, and he's glad that he has at least some open-minded fans regardless of what his label says.  

He looks at them all and says, "Since I see you all with your cameras out, I want to see this all over Twitter and Instagram. Feel free to tag me. Let's scoop TMZ, what do you say?" 

There's more cheering and Tony feels high on life and ready to take on the world, the naysayers, his label, and anything else. So long as Bruce is with him again. Beside him Bruce chuckles and it's that bright chuckle that Tony knows by heart, because it's the one that tells him he's genuinely high on life and strutting.  

Tony catches his eyes so he can see him mid-smile. Bruce searches his before looking down at the forgotten record. With a wry smile he says, "Can I get an autograph?"  

Tony barks out a soft laugh and leans in for another kiss. "I think that can be arranged." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. I have a grander scale musician au idea where they're much much younger and there isn't any (at least major) "they're also scientists themes" like this one, but this was essentially to dip my toes in or get it out of my system until I have time to actually consider that au.  
> 2\. I couldn't resist having [Amanda Armstrong](http://marvel.wikia.com/wiki/Amanda_Armstrong_\(Earth-616\)) as Tony's music producer :)  
> 3\. And sad as the song is, you know I couldn't leave it there :3  
> 4\. In case anyone is wondering, I personally drew a lot of vibe-inspiration for Tony's supposedly raw album from Mumford & Sons "Wilder Mind" which is like in my top five favorite albums of all time now and I've been listening to at least on a weekly basis since it was first released. 
> 
> Note on other stories. Obviously the Christmas season is pretty much upon us. So I don't know how many more of these I'll end up finishing (at least before the holiday season is over); I only have one other completed to post. And I'm also working on trying to get S for Stark, Not Santa finished (I'll probably post the rest of it in one go when it's finished as opposed to chapter by chapter) so that's sort of the precedence for me right now (although I will say if I don't finish it, I'll post what I do have before Christmas and then continue to update once a week until it's finished).


	9. Good To Be Bad

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony's and Bruce's children have been bad enough that they deserve coal for Christmas this year. Or have they?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by [Good To Be Bad](https://youtu.be/WXhJ7IlBLtg) by Pentatonix. With Christmas in July wrapping up, couldn't resist adding a cracky Christmas-song inspired thing I thought of last holiday season, but didn't manage to get around to writing. (It's not Christmas-y at all, as a heads up.)

"I know you don't want to, Bruce," Tony said with a shake of his head as they looked over the kids' Christmas lists. "I don't want to be that parent either, but come on. You have to admit things have gotten out of hand. I just don't know how else we're going to get through to them."

"By being fair. Not ridiculous," Bruce countered.

"Ridiculous?" Tony looked up at his husband with a raised eyebrow. "Ridiculous is Thor and Loki having 'do not let enter' posters at the grocery store. That's ridiculous. You know I'm right."

"You are," Bruce agreed. "The incident was blown ridiculously out of proportion. The store knows how I feel about it."

"Okay, but what about when Skye obstructed the delivery of the samples for dissection to her biology class and we had to pick her up from juvie?"

Bruce looked at him with an incredulous expression. "Tony, you know I agreed with her one hundred percent."

"Well, yeah, it's cruel and unusual to dissect dead cats. I got that."

"She _owns_ a cat," Bruce pointed out. "If the school had let students opt out it might not have been an issue. She was well within her democratic rights to protest. You know you agree too," Bruce said, raising an eyebrow.

Tony sighed. "I do, but now she has a record."

Bruce snorted and looked back down at his copies of the kids' lists. "Honey, she's an activist in training. Having a record is inevitable. And at least she's learning which causes are the right ones to stand up for and the appropriate ways to go about doing so."

"You're being too lenient, Bruce," Tony argued. "We've both been too lenient. We've let our kids get the upper hand on us and they know it. It's only going to get worse."

"Well, we _are_ outnumbered. It was bound to happen," he said with a chuckle. "But I still say you're being over dramatic. I agree we need to tackle some behavior issues, but not like this."

"Natasha missed her curfew by over an hour last month."

"She and Laura lost track of time. Sure, I was worried, but it happens."

"Clint failed his SAT."

" _Tony_."

"Right, forgot we don't mention that one," Tony said and then snapped his mouth shut tight for a moment. Tony had freaked out about it which had caused Bruce to freak out about his freaking out about it and the fight that had followed had been one for the record books. On the bright side, the make-up sex had been out of this world too. "Pietro failed _his_ final tests on purpose though," Tony redirected the conversation.

"Yes, that was a problem," Bruce agreed with a sigh. "He should have come to us about his anxiety."

"And don't get me started about Harley and Peter playing hooky."

"Oh, I'm still mad about that one," Bruce admitted. "I don't know what they were thinking."

"They were thinking they could get away with it because their dads have gone soft," Tony insisted. "Just like Wanda suddenly thinking it's okay to sneak out of the house to check on her horse even after we said no."

_I am still very sorry for allowing it, sir_ , JARVIS interjected.

"Save it, J," Tony snapped, scowling as he did. "You're still very much on my bad side for overriding your protocols just because Wanda said pretty please." Bruce grimaced and Tony understood why. "Then don't forget Jane and Darcy's bouts of pneumonia," Tony hurried on, not wanting to think too long about the previous point, "because they thought it would be a good idea to stand at an open window all night watching the meteor shower _while it was pouring down rain_."

Bruce frowned and nodded. "I’m more upset with Jane on that one. She's older and should have known better." He sighed. "Erik's going to have his work cut out for him when he takes them on that trip in the spring. Jane's thirst for scientific discovery is... certainly relentless."

Tony shook his head before resting it against his hand, propped up by his elbow on the table. "It's safe to say the only ones that deserve anything other than coal on Christmas morning are Jemma and Steve."

Bruce snorted and looked at him. "You're kidding right? If Jemma feeds Hulk any more of her veggies, I'm pretty sure he's going to turn green. And I'm sure Steve has probably dabbled in the usual college antics without us knowing."

Tony's eyebrows flew upward and suddenly all of the absurdity of their lives overwhelmed him at once, leaving him in a fit of laughter. Bruce quickly joined in.

_Sirs, I'm sorry to interrupt_ , JARVIS said while they attempted to get their laughter under control with little luck, _but speaking of Steve, he is currently trending on all major social media sites._

"What?" They sobered up immediately at the mention of their eldest.

_The source of the trend is an article on TMZ accompanied by paparazzi photos of him in Vegas._

"VEGAS!?" Bruce stood to his feet.

"What the hell is he doing in Vegas?" Tony asked, joining his husband in standing.

_It would seem he is attempting an elopement._

Before Tony could process the news Bruce was suddenly ripping up the children's Christmas lists.

"They're all fucking getting coal," he practically growled, his temper flaring to life.

"Bruce, just, calm down. He's an adult…" Bruce spun on him with a frenzied expression and Tony threw up his hands. "Yep. Coal. See, told you. JARVIS, tell the airport to have our personal jet ready with a flight plan for Vegas asap."

_Yes, sir. You also have an incoming call from Lt. Colonel Rhodes._

"You know what," Tony backed away slowly, "I think maybe you should handle this one, Bruce."

Bruce gave him the scariest death glare Tony had ever seen in his life and he continued to back away, only to nearly trip over something. He looked down and his eyes widened. " _What the fuck?_ He really did turn green," he said of the discolored dog sleeping on the floor.

"He's not the only one!" Bruce literally growled this time and Tony's heart stopped. When he looked back at Bruce, the other man's muscles were bulging as he literally transformed into a green monster before his eyes.

 

"Oh shit!" Tony shot up in his bed, breathing heavily as his mind tried to make sense of where he was and what had just happened.

"Tony?" Tony's eyes widened at the sound of Bruce's groggy voice. He looked down at the man beside him as he slowly stirred and then sat up. "Everything okay?"

Tony rubbed at his eyes and took a few more deep breaths. "Yeah," he nodded, "I think so. Just… a really, really weird dream I guess. It was one of those dreams that gets more ridiculous as it goes along," he said, letting out shaky breath.

"I thought I was the one that was supposed to be having those dreams right now," Bruce mumbled with a yawn.

"We had a lot of kids," Tony explained. He furrowed his brow, trying to recall the dream. "Like, thirteen of them," he said and looked at Bruce to see his eyes wide and blinking, definitely more awake now. "All of our teammates were our kids and then some. And they were _awful_. Little miscreants. Steve was eloping. And then you turned into the Hulk which freaked me the fuck out because I don't think we had any powers or anything and I was pretty sure I was going to die—"

"Tony," Bruce interrupted with a soothing palm to his face, "it was definitely just a dream."

Tony nodded and swallowed hard. "Right, of course. I know that. Thirteen kids sort of gave that away."

Bruce snorted softly and laid back down. "Twins will be enough."

"Precisely," Tony agreed as he laid back down too. Then Bruce's words struck him. "Wait, what?" He sat back up again. Bruce looked up at him with a furrowed brow. "Twins?"

"Uh, yeah? I know you just woke up, but did you seriously forget?" Bruce asked with an incredulous chuckle. "Wish I could sometimes."

"What twins?" Tony pressed. This seemed incredibly crucial to know. "Who's having twins?"

"Alright. I'm going back to sleep now," Bruce said with a roll of his eyes before closing them.

"But you said twins."

"Tony, I'm tired and I'm hungry," Bruce grumbled. "Either lay down and go back to sleep or go make me a peanut butter and pickle sandwich."

"Peanut butter and pickle?" Tony repeated. Suddenly his heart started racing and he broke out into a cold sweat. " _Bruce_ , _who's having twins_?"

Bruce huffed. Without opening his eyes he grabbed Tony's arm and moved Tony's hand to his stomach. Tony's eyes widened.

"Your fault, asshole," Bruce grumbled some more as he let go of Tony's hand. "So the least you could do is let me sleep or make me a sandwich."

 

Tony woke up with a start and ended up falling right out of his chair and onto the unforgiving slab floor.

"What the hell?" he heard Clint's voice.

"Tony, are you alright?" Bruce asked next and Tony looked up through askew sunglasses to see the physicist looking down at him with concern.

Tony carefully stood to his feet and brushed himself off, looking around at where he was. It was S.H.I.E.L..D. headquarters and apparently he'd fallen asleep during a brief. _Right_. A brief, he recalled. This was real life. He was definitely awake now.

"Have you been asleep this whole time, Stark?" Fury asked sharply.

"If it's any consolation," Tony said, blinking as he pulled off his sunglasses, "I think I would have preferred the brief no matter how boring it was."

"Must have been some dream," Natasha retorted.

"Uh..." Tony glanced at Bruce. "Yeah, you... you could say that."

Bruce squirmed in his seat, glanced around and then back again. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Do you really _want_ to know, Bruce?" Natasha teased.

"I know I don't," Steve said with a sigh.

"I do," Clint chirped. "Was it a wet dream about the Hulk?" Everybody looked at him with synchronized incredulity. "What?"

"Okay, no, that would have been reasonable," Tony replied and Bruce's incredulous expression shifted to him, although it was more gaping disbelief now. "Me and Bruce having thirteen kids, not so much."

"What?" Bruce choked out the word. "Thirteen... _what?_ "

The rest of the team, save for Bruce, started laughing. Tony scowled.

"I dreamed we had thirteen kids," he elaborated. "At least some of them were the team. And it was Christmas and we were discussing how, uh, how they pretty much all deserved coal because they were a bunch of brats."

"That's believable," Coulson remarked through a chuckle.

"And I think Steve was eloping and you freaked out and turned into the Hulk and I woke up," Tony rushed through the rest without pause. "Only, when I woke up I was still dreaming and in that dream you were pregnant. With twins. _Our_ twins. Then I woke up for real. And here we are."

All of the laughter tapered off and the room became so quiet that the cliche pin could be heard if it were to drop.

"Um..." Bruce looked around the room, not meeting anyone's eyes. "I... think I need a minute." He stood up to his feet and practically fled the room.

"I'd run too if Stark was having baby dreams about me," Clint said with another laugh.

"You're the one who brought Hulk sex into this," Coulson said with a raised eyebrow at the archer. "Not sure you're in any position to pass judgment."

"You know what, I think I need a minute too," Tony said and turned to chase after the physicist. He only stopped to add, "And you can forget whatever lewd fantasies you've been having over there, Bird-man." 

Tony guessed where Bruce might have gone and, sure enough, found him in the lab, just standing there like a statue, his back turned away from where Tony stood in the door. Tony bit his lip, wondering what was going through the other genius' mind now that he knew his friend was harboring... _feelings_. Apparently to an embarrassing extent he hadn't even realized if Tony all of a sudden was dreaming about having kids with the man.

"For the record," Tony said, taking a breath and moving a few steps toward him, "I'm not really interested in having thirteen kids. If _that's_ what you're worried about." 

Bruce turned quickly to look at him. He studied him for a long moment before clarity dawned in his eyes and a thin smile touched his face, assuaging Tony's worry that he'd been misinterpreting any reciprocal feelings from the physicist these past few months. 

"Good. That's good," he said as Tony closed the rest of the gap between them. "Because nobody would be crazy enough to trust us with one, let alone thirteen."

"Well," Tony hitched a shoulder and smirked, "I'm sure I could blackmail Fury into fixing it for us if we ever did."

Bruce hummed noncommittally and Tony decided they'd wasted enough time. He started to lean in, but couldn't help adding in jest, "By the way, you can't get pregnant right?"

Bruce snorted, eyes half lidded in anticipation, "Not that I'm aware of, no."

"Good. That's good to know for later," Tony said and kissed him.

"MM-wait, and you?" Bruce asked, pulling away from the kiss with a teasing smirk.

Tony smiled wide. "Nope," he confirmed before capturing Bruce's lips again, more hungrily than before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So when I heard this song the first time, I thought of a crazy premise where all of the kids in the Lucky Thirteen verse are out of control, a little on in the timeline, and Tony's just "AH what do we do, let's just give them all boxes of coal." But of course our precious angels in that verse would _never_... So that's when the plot bunny progressed into an ~and it was all just a crack dream~ scenario. With an extra jokey shout out to mpreg verses.
> 
> That, of course, is not to say Lucky Thirteen is nothing more than Tony's crack dream lmao. And the ridiculous antics of the kids in his dream in this ficlet aren't necessarily ever going to happen. (Although, Skye protesting dissection is a legit idea I had for the actual verse.)


	10. But What Does It Mean? (part of NBC au)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony, the Pumpkin King, has discovered Christmas Town and now is obsessed with figuring out why it makes him feel the way it does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by the [Jack's Obsession](https://play.spotify.com/track/2z1SaJJSPpLDQJphaESqKC) scenes from The Nightmare Before Christmas. Part of the same AU from Chapter 6.

Bruce furrows his brow when he hears what he is sure is Tony's voice, as unexpected as it may be, somewhere in the asylum. He gets up from his small cot and moves closer to the padlocked door to listen more carefully.

"Absolutely not!" he thinks he hears Thaddeus bark.

"BUT _I_ AM THE _PUMPKIN KING_!"

The walls of the asylum shake and Bruce backs away from the door in surprise. He knows how terrible Tony can be, but rarely does he exercise that might, least of all against anyone in Halloween Town. Save maybe Loki.

Everything is silent for a few moments until suddenly the door to Bruce's cell begins to open. Bruce blinks uncertainly when he sees Thaddeus doing his best to conjure daggers from his eyes that might slit Bruce's throat and be done with it. Then, with a begrudging groan, he steps aside and Tony enters, looking a little smug. Thaddeus slams the door shut and locks it again, leaving them alone.

"I... don't understand." Bruce looks from the door to Tony.

"I need your assistance, Bruce," Tony replies and comes further into the cell, looking around in clear study. It occurs to Bruce this is the first he's ever seen of it and he suddenly feels self-conscious, ashamed. He doesn't deserve Tony's friendship. He's an accident. Dangerous. Unworthy. "Bruce?"

Bruce blinks and realizes Tony is studying him now. "Sorry," he says. "Assistance, you said? Is it with... with the Christmas thing you were discussing at the town meeting?"

"it is," Tony answers. "I can't stop thinking about it, Bruce." He walks over to the window and looks out, hands behind his back in repose. "I wish others could understand how wonderful I felt. I need to know what it means." He pauses for a long moment. "Huh. At least the view is nice."

Tony turns to him with a small smirk and Bruce is glad rag dolls can't blush. He looks past Tony at the unobstructed view of the Pumpkin King's tower and then over at his lab table.

"Um, so you're turning to the scientific method?" Bruce guesses his reason for being there, hoping to deflect from the turn the conversation had taken.

"Yes!" Tony cheers and approaches the table, eyeing the various items adorning it. "I knew you'd understand. I need to do some experiments. I need to figure out what makes Christmas...Christmas. And why it makes me feel...something I can't explain."

Bruce sighs. He doesn't know why, but something about this whole Christmas thing feels wrong. And something seems off about Tony. But... he wants to help so he supposes he'll have to go along with his sudden fixation.

"What do you need me to assist you with?" Bruce asks.

Tony smiles and for a moment Bruce forgets his concerns. He offers a small smile in return.

"I, uh," Tony blinks and looks down at the table, "I need some supplies. Whatever you can spare and think might be of most benefit. I used to have a nice supply of these things myself, but I haven't really been able to devote much time to mad science since taking over as Pumpkin King, you know." He says it with a despondent sigh, like a mournful banshee's howl carried on the wind and Bruce feels a twinge of pity, though he would never let Tony know it.

"You are free to take whatever," Bruce tells him and moves to his shelves to grab some things that might be of use.

"But not free to take you," Tony says and Bruce nearly drops a beaker.

He spins around, looking at Tony with wide eyes. "Me?"

"With you assisting me back at my tower, we'd be certain to figure out what makes Christmas twice as fast. Maybe faster."

"Oh."

"But Mad Thaddeus wouldn't allow more than this visit. He said there was only one lawful way to get you out of here," Tony glances around Bruce's measly cell again, "but of course he wouldn’t say what that way might be. Only that it will never happen."

"Whatever it is," Bruce finishes gathering things and places them in a bag, "I'm sure he's right." He hopes he doesn't sound more forlorn than usual. "But if you need my help," Bruce offers, along with the items, "I can always try to escape again and—"

"No!" Tony says quickly and Bruce blinks at the unexpected outburst. Tony looks genuinely worried, which is strange for the most fearsome being in all of Halloween Town – in Bruce's opinion anyhow. "I don't think you should press your luck with him so much, Bruce. I'd hate for him to get good and angry with you and..." He shakes his head.

"I'm not sure there's much he can do to me unless I let him," Bruce muses sadly, turning away with a shrug. And even then, he's not sure how long he can effectively hold back the savage thing he can turn into.

"And we both know you would let him," Tony says, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bruce startles at the touch, but then indulges in a soft smile.

"You're probably right."

**~O.O~**

Tony taps his chin a few times, pondering the equation for what has to be the millionth time. He's smarter than this, so what is the missing variable? Why isn't the math working? He groans and erases some of what he already has. He glances over at his faithful, ghost dog Jarvis, none the wiser to Tony's frustration as he sleeps peacefully in his bed.

"Alright, let's try this again," he says, stubborn like a piece of candy corn stuck in one's teeth. "Snowman distributed to chestnuts over an open fire," he writes, "divided by bell, times the twelfth root of Dec.25, plus Sandy Claws, equals Christmas." He sighs and scratches his head as he studies the new equation to see if it checks.

Something catches his attention from the corner of his eyes. Tony turns slowly and finds something hovering just outside the window of his tower. Upon closer inspection it's a basket held aloft by a rope and hook. Curious, he opens the window and peers down to the ground.

"Bruce," he says in whispered surprise. The rag doll man looks up at him with a smile. Tony can't help but smile back and wave down to his friend.

He pulls the basket away from the hook and studies the contents. It turns out to be some of Tony's most favorite items of sustenance, including Frightful Cider which Bruce himself is no big fan of; that he procured some for Tony makes the gesture that much more touching.

He pops open the bottle and is surprised and intrigued when a green wisp of smoke rises up from the bottle in the least frightening image imaginable: a green butterfly. Tony feels his metal heart twinge and a smile spreads across his face involuntarily.

Bruce shouldn't have risked running away again just to make certain that Tony eats, although he knows him well because Tony _hasn't_ eaten in quite a while, too busy with his experiments. But Bruce is the very best friend he could ask for. He's... he's more than what Tony could ask for...

Tony looks back out the window to tell him just that, or to call him in, but he's disappointed to see that Bruce has already gone. His smile falls and he hopes that at the least Bruce is getting back to the asylum before Thaddeus finds him escaped.  

Tony sighs and closes the window.

"Jarvis," he says, and the dog perks up to listen to him, "remind me to look into the way I can get Bruce out of the asylum after I've figured out this Christmas thing."


	11. But In Case I Stand One Little Chance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tony throws a masquerade ball the New Year's Eve following the events of AoU (includes some AoU canon divergence and is kind of a fix-it I guess).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Inspired by "What Are You Doing New Year's Eve". The canon divergence in this piece is basically the end of AoU (with the new facility and a new team) didn't happen, implying neither did anything after that as we know it in Phase 3 (no CW or similar).

"So when were you going to tell me?"

Bruce sighed. He'd thought he'd spotted a familiar face in today's crowd at the local market, but the blonde hair had thrown him a little. He made no move to stop parsing through the avocadoes he still needed for a few days of simple and cheap meals.

"I thought it had been obvious," he answered, not even turning to look at her.

"This might surprise you, but the word obvious isn't really in my vocabulary, Bruce." He raised an eyebrow at that, even if she couldn't see it. "I thought Clint was seeing Coulson until he introduced me to Laura," she gave as an example.

He snorted, remembering how he'd thought Clint was with Natasha before Natasha proved otherwise with her sudden, unexpected advances. Even then, he hadn't guessed anything close to what Clint's reality was. That soured his brief moment of mirth and he sighed again.

"I'd rather not talk about Clint's family and something tells me you don't really want to either." He paid the vendor, dropped the avocadoes in his woven bag, and finally turned to look at her once the transaction was complete. "How have you been, Tasha?"

She stared at him, eyes calculating something by way of his appearance. After a moment she finally responded with, "I've been better." He furrowed his brow and looked up at the top of her blonde head. "I'm lying low again," she answered his unasked question.

"Is everything okay?" he asked instead, starting to walk away from the crowded area toward somewhere more private. 

"It was decided after Sokovia that maybe you had the right idea." He glanced sidelong at her, not understanding her meaning outside of her maybe having run off like she'd wanted to without him. Or was she there to try again now that she'd found him? "The world doesn't really need The Avengers.”

Bruce stopped short and she stopped too, turning to look at him. "You disbanded?"

"More or less. Fury doesn't like it, but he says we need to blend in for a while. Go back to being normal. Whatever the hell that is since I never really figured it out the first time around." Her tone was bitter and he understood too well now why. "It took every trick in his arsenal to get us clemency. You can imagine people wanted our heads on platters. Some more than others," she said purposely, looking him over from head to toe and then back again before turning to walk on.

Bruce swallowed hard and looked down at the ground for a long moment. "I would have come back," he confessed. He looked up again to see she'd stopped, but her back was still turned to him. "I knew about the clemency. I felt guilty for running and wanted to make sure everyone was okay. If you hadn't been, I would have come back. I would have taken the consequences coming to me along with the rest of you."

Much to his surprise, Natasha replied evenly, "Well, that's dumb." Bruce furrowed his brow and she turned to him, a small smirk on her face. "When you could just call up the Other Guy and break us out?"

"You sound like Tony," Bruce observed.

She quirked an eyebrow. "Is that why you were willing to give it a shot?"

Bruce shrugged and started walking again. "Sure, maybe you remind me of Tony sometimes," he spoke again after they'd walked a little ways in silence. "But I'm only a man, Natasha. How can anyone not be attracted to you if you give them the chance, you know? I like women," he pointed out. "And it's been… a long time."

Natasha hummed, but didn't respond right away. When she did there was something self-deprecating in her tone. "Still, you gave it your best try. Maybe that's another thing I find refreshing. I'm not used to that. I think even Clint would have left Laura quicker if I'd pursued him."

"It can't work between us, Tasha," Bruce hedged, stopping again.

She turned to face him with a laugh. "Yeah, you made that pretty clear." She weighed her head from side to side. "I mean, there were some mixed signals there in Sokovia, what with the rescuing and agreeing to run away with me, but don't worry. I'm not here for that."

Bruce sighed and rubbed his eyes. "I was willing to try," he admitted. "And I'm not going to stand here and dissect all the reasons, but you probably could have made me fall in love with you eventually."

"Eventually."

He shrugged and dropped his hand. "But you would never have fallen in love with me." She raised her eyebrows. "Face it, Tasha. You don't really adore me. What was the word you just used? Refreshing? That's not love. Love is what happens after refreshing becomes familiar. It's how you feel about someone even when the behaviors you used to find refreshing sometimes frustrate you to no end and make you want to walk away from it, but you can't because then your life would be empty in a way it's never been empty before."

The way Natasha looked at him told Bruce that she understood his meaning even if part of him wished she didn't.

With a sigh, he continued, "Remember the night at the party? You said you liked that I run away from a fight and yet—"

"And yet I pushed you into battle anyway," Natasha finished in an enlightened tone and Bruce wondered if that really was her first time realizing what he had that moment back in Sokovia.

"There are things we both want," he said, slow and somber, "but it wouldn't be fair to either of us if we tried to find those things with each other." He paused and then added, "And I'm sorry for leading you on."

"I think I'll survive," she replied. "I think we both will."

Bruce licked his lips and glanced down the road at where his very rudimentary apartment was located. "So, do you need a place to stay, or...?" He let the question trail and glanced at her.

"Just passing through. Thought I'd say hi to a friend."

Bruce gave a silent oh and then asked, "And how did you... find me?"

Her lips quirked slightly at the edges. "I'd like to say we never lost you," he snorts softly at the joke, "but I had to handle a Stark bender worse than when he was dying so it'd be a lie. And I'm trying to give up the whole lying thing," she added, her lips curling upward just a little more. As for Bruce, his amusement faltered at the mention of Tony. "But he tracked you down eventually. Passed along the information to me. Had the crazy idea I'd be interested."

Bruce wasn't sure why, but somehow, he'd always expected it would be Tony himself that showed up out of the blue. That he hadn't, even though he obviously knew where he was, made something unpleasant settle somewhere in his chest.

"They broke up," Natasha announced, breaking him from his trance.

Bruce contemplated playing dumb for about two seconds before realizing that would be a bad idea. "I'm sorry to hear that," he said instead.

"No you're not." She shook her head.

"Sure I am. Tony deserves to be happy."

"Then you should go back."

Bruce huffed. "That can't work either." Even if there was an ounce of mutual attraction there, and sometimes it had scared Bruce more that there might be than not, it wasn't a prospect he could entertain.

When she didn't respond outside of a scrutinizing stare, Bruce made an attempt at deflection. "But I'm still glad to see you again, Tasha."

Natasha's gaze softened and she shook her head in a gentle manner just shy of patronizing. She then surprised him with a hug. She cupped her mouth to his ear and said, "You deserve to be happy too, Bruce." He sucked in a breath at her words just as much as her earnest tone. She kissed him on the cheek and then stepped back. "One more thing before I go," she said, a gleam in her eyes, "Stark is hosting a masquerade ball on New Year's Eve. He thought it'd be a clever way to have a little reunion without drawing suspicion to the press. You should come."

Bruce blinked, trying to imagine it, before shaking his head. “I think we both know I probably shouldn’t.”

“I don't know that.” She took a few more steps back. “At least think about it, Bruce.”

~

"You are a magnificent dancer, your highness."

"Thank you," Lila answered with a giggle. "So are you."

"Lila," Clint interrupted the off kilter 'dance', the young girl mostly standing on Tony's feet, "there you are."

Tony turned his head to see Clint looking at him with a look he'd only ever seen aimed at him by the fathers of girls he'd 'dated' as a teenager. He gave him an incredulous look back.

"Your mother thinks it's time we head back to our rooms,” Clint told his daughter.

"Aww," Lila whined and Tony joined her, earning another glare from Clint. "I'm not tired," she said.

"Yeah, dad, we're not tired," Tony continued egging the archer on.

"You can stay up and watch the ball drop on t.v. with mom, me, and Cooper," Clint compromised.

Of course, staying at a grown up party where people were dressed up in fancy clothes with masks on probably seemed way more fun than watching an overhyped disco ball on a television.

"I can?" Tony teased.

"Shut up before I ground you," Clint snarked back. "Lila, say goodnight to Uncle Tony."

Lila sighed, shoulders slumping. "Goodnight, Uncle Tony."

"Goodnight, milady," he said with a melodramatic bow and Clint's daughter perked up with more giggles. Clint groaned. "I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow. I'll make some omelets and maybe Uncle Steve will make pancakes or waffles if you ask him."

Clint muttered something about them spoiling her and then tapped his daughter on the shoulder to get her to come along. He also gave Tony another sharp look before leading her away.

Tony laughed and shook his head as he watched them go. Lila looked over her shoulder and waved at him and Tony waved back, smiling. His smile fell and he took a step forward, a protective instinct, when she turned around and collided with a man who hadn't been paying attention where he was going either.

Tony froze when said man responded with a warm, gentle smile. The man looked at Clint, just as the archer was turning around in realization that Lila had fallen behind somewhere, and just as gently guided Lila over to him.

Tony watched as Clint gave a look of relief and said his thanks. The other man smiled again and spoke, causing Clint to smile back and begin engaging him in conversation. The conversation was short, Clint eventually taking Lila by the hand and restarting their trek to the rest of their family, and the man was left in the same position Tony had been a few moments before: watching father and daughter leave the party.

Tony took a deep breath and moved to head him off before he could disappear into the crowd, causing him to suffer a second collision.

"I'm sorry," he apologized. "I really need to start looking where I'm—" His voice stalled and brown eyes blinked at Tony from behind a mask that covered the majority of his face, reminding Tony a little of the Webber's infamous Phantom. "Going."

Tony smiled and said, "I disagree."

Tony spread his hands wide in offer and was relieved when it was accepted, the two of them falling into an easy sway to the jazz that blared throughout the tower's party deck. They danced in silence for several, long, blissful moments, Tony simply relishing the closeness like he always had.

"Never thought I'd get to dance with Tony Stark."

"As far as I'm concerned we've been dancing since day one."

"That's... a good line."

Tony snorted. "Of course it is; I said it." It was amazing how the mask didn't disguise the familiar roll of eyes in the least. "Or it would be. Only I mean it."

"Then how come you let Natasha cut in?"

The sharp accusation cut through Tony's bravado and he could only blink, unable to answer. How could he answer when the question translated to: _Then how come you didn't tell me? How come you let Pepper think she was still the one? How come you always mess everything up?_

"We shouldn't be doing this."

The words cut through Tony's trance as did the way Bruce pulled away from him.

"No, please," Tony begged, voice strangled, and Bruce stopped, back turned towards him. "You know the answer already. I am a walking certified mess of a human being who's only ever done two things right in his life: shutting down his company's weapons manufacturing and volunteering to take that missile into that damn wormhole. And, honestly, I should have died then and saved everyone the trouble of having to deal with me anymore."

Bruce turned around sharply. "Don't say that."

"No, it's true. Hulk should have just let me--"

Bruce was suddenly close to him again, cutting off his words with an intense kiss. Tony was surprised, but not enough so that he didn't immediately respond by doing everything in his power to all but kiss the life out of the other man. He had to admit he was selfishly relieved to still be alive just for this moment.

"Don't fucking say that," Bruce repeated in a hoarse voice, pulling away from the kiss and shaking his head vigorously. "Saving you is one of the only things he and I have ever done right. Some days it’s all I have to cope with having this, this, _terrible privilege_. Please don't... Don’t say that," he begged, voice cracking at the end.

Tony pulled the emotional physicist close to him. He kissed his head and then pulled Bruce's face upward to meet his gaze, seeing the gleam of unshed tears there. "I won't. I promise. I won't say it again. In fact, I just thought of something else I did right that I wouldn't have if Hulk hadn't saved me. I got an asshole general discharged from the army."

"You what?" Bruce looked at him with wide-eyed shock.

"But we, uh, we can talk about that later because... Because right now I just really need..." He let his words trail into another kiss, more tender and unhurried than the last but no less hungry for what it seemed they both had wanted from the start. "I know I don't deserve it," Tony said between dancing lips, "but give me a chance?"

"I already did," Bruce answered. Before Tony could worry about his meaning, he said, "That's why I'm here."

Tony smiled and kissed him again, long and hard and ravenous.

"And here I thought I'd have to convince you to stay," Tony murmured against his lips and then nibbled a little at his jaw.

"Mm…I never actually said I would stay," Bruce murmured back, his tone dry and husky and making it hard for Tony not to do something more right there in the middle of the party.

"Then let me convince you."

"Alright," Bruce said with a content-sounding sigh, "I will." Bruce then kissed him again and added, "And then maybe I can convince you to run away with me instead."

Tony smiled against his lips, already knowing what his answer would be if it came down to it. "Maybe you can at that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope everyone has a safe New Year's weekend and here's to an amazing 2018 for everyone!


End file.
